


Broken Sinks & Bountiful Baking

by CorvusCorvidae



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvusCorvidae/pseuds/CorvusCorvidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana’s new roommate has a special knack for baking and breaking furniture. Somehow, these traits become endearing, rather than annoying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's All About the Roommate

* * *

*0*0*

Sitting in a café two blocks from her apartment, stirring her coffee anti-clockwise, Santana Lopez’s patience was wearing thin. She was meant to meet Kurt there twenty minutes ago, but his prissy ass had yet to show up. The man had been out of town for the last two months, exploring all L.A. had to offer before running home with his tale in between his legs, or at least, that’s how Santana liked to think of it. Kurt, himself, had an entirely different view of what went down.

Regardless, he was late, and she was bored. If he was going to be late, she could have just hung out at her apartment, caught up on the latest reality TV show and eaten junk food. But then again, on second thought, maybe not. Maybe he was doing her a favour by keeping her out the house longer.

Finally, Santana caught eye of Kurt prancing in. He looked round for her, earning a nod in his direction, before going to get served. Minutes later, he was planting himself down in the seat opposite, placing his coffee mug and cake down. It was chocolate gateau, rich with chocolate icing, and Santa’s lip curled in distaste, her eyes slinking away to focus on something else.

“Look, I’m sorry I’m late, but don’t give me that face. I sent you a message, it’s not my fault if you hadn’t picked it up,” Kurt said, picking up his fork to tuck in. The mild distraction he offered was good enough for Santana to drop her lip, and check if he was telling the truth or not. He was, to her disappointment.

“So, tell me how have things been? I really don’t want to talk about L.A. It happened, it’s over now. I’m not going to discuss it any more than I have to.” Taking a bite, Kurt moaned and sunk in his chair. “Oh my God, Santana, you have to try this. Here, have a bit-“ He grabbed her spoon and cut a bit off, holding it out for her to eat, only to have it batted out of his hand.

 “Absolutely not. Get it away from me, get it away from me now, Hummel, before I vomit all over your Dolce & Gabbana shoes.” Santana was repulsed, ignoring the other patrons who had turned to see what caused the clatter, and pushed her chair backwards from the table.

“Geez, what is up with you? It’s just cake.” Kurt couldn’t understand where the hell that reaction had come from. Satan never used to be that grouchy. How much had changed since he’d been away?

“No. It’s never just cake. It is never _just_ cake. Remove it. Remove it from the area,” Santana demanded, waving her hand at him to do as she said. She couldn’t have it there. It was too much. It needed to go. Just looking at it made her nauseous.

“Christ, Santana, I can’t eat any faster.” Kurt rolled his eyes at her dramatics but did as she asked, trying to eat as much of it as possible. He hadn’t come all the way over for her to just walk out on him.

“Shove all of it in your mouth. God only knows you’ve had bigger things in there. Faster, faster, before I hurl,” Santana continued to bark.

Only once Kurt’s plate lay empty did she pull her chair back in and pick up her coffee for a drink. She no longer had to have an available exit in case her stomach decided to expel its contents.

“Do you want to explain why I just had to scoff my cake down? I wanted to enjoy it.” Kurt was practically pouting, an unhappy frown marring his face, but it was definitely not enough to make Santana feel guilty.

“That word is banned. Don’t ever use it again. It’s banned from now on. Next time you use it, if I don’t hurl up all over you, I will beat you so hard you’ll wish I had.” The threat was not empty, as Kurt noted seeing the seriousness in her eyes. What the hell was going on? What was the big deal?

“You’re really freaking me out,” he said, shaking his head. He wouldn’t dare admit to being worried about her.

“Your choice of food is making me sick. We’re even,” Santana replied, unfazed by his whining.

Kurt huffed back in his chair at her response and awaited some kind of explanation.  It was like trying to get blood from a stone. She seemed reluctant to talk about it, which just piqued his curiosity further, and he knew there was a story to be told.

“So what’s the big deal about the C-A-K-E?”  he finally asked, knowing Santana would never fill in the details if he didn’t.

“My new roommate,” she grumbled, her lip curling at the mere thought. “She won’t stop baking them for me.”

“How is this a bad thing?” Kurt couldn’t find any fault with that, and actually wished his roommate would do more things like that.

“Because cake in moderation is great, cake all the time is fucking horrific.” Apparently that was all he was going to get, so Kurt tried again.

“Okay, not really painting the picture I’m looking for. Fill me in a little more please. You’ve either forgotten or don’t care that I’ve been in L.A. and therefore have no clue what’s been going on with you.”

“She’s been with me for about a month and a half and in that time I’ve had seven cakes. Seven. She didn’t even bake the first one until after her third week! Seven, Hummel, seven!” That had awoken the beast, and Kurt raised his eyebrows at the outburst.

“Alright, I get it, seven cakes. Why is she baking so much? How did this even start?”

“She broke the sink-“ Santana began.

“How did she break the sink?” he asked, interrupting her.

“Shit if I know. She said something about dancing, acrobatics and there not being enough room in her bedroom. Whatever. She broke the sink.” It made no sense when explained to Santana so she wasn’t going to even try explaining it to Kurt.

“How does one break a sink?” he pondered, taking a sip of his coffee. “Surely that’s quite difficult. I mean, how was it broken?”

“She took the tap right off, and the sink itself broke in half. Literally haven’t got a fucking clue how she did it, but my $800 sink was trashed.” That was such a sad day.

“Oh my God, you paid $800 for a sink?!” Kurt gasped, appalled by such frivolous spending.

“Oh my God, you paid $400 for that shirt?” Santana gasped back mockingly, pointing at said catastrophe on show. Turning up his nose at how loud her question had been, attracting several onlookers, he glanced at his shirt and then conceded.

“Point taken.”

“Thank you.” Santana grinned triumphantly as she sipped her coffee. “Anyway, she trashed the sink, almost flooded the apartment, it was a big mess. I get home to my kitchen in a fucking state, the plumber had been, the sink was still there though, and on the counter was a note and this cake. Written across the cake in green icing, it said ‘I’m sorry I destroyed your kitchen’. The note went into more detail.”

“She was hiding from you, is that why she left you a note?” Amusement danced across Kurt’s lips and Santana wanted to throw her coffee over him. Not everyone was afraid of her, jackass.

“No,” she grounded out, considering again to drench him in her drink. Sadly, it would probably improve his hideous shirt and she’d be out of a coffee. “She works late. She’s on some stage performance thing, no clue, I don’t listen. So, I ate her fucking cake, ordered a replacement sink, and left it at that.”

“And obviously there were more cakes to come.”

“Hell yeah. About three days later, I got another cake and note. This time, she was apologising for coming in wasted off her ass and destroying the lamp in the living room.” That was an even worse day. Santana fucking loved that lamp. It was sorely missed.

“What lamp?” Kurt was frowning at trying to think of the last time he’d been in Santana’s apartment.

“The ‘gaudy’ one I hide every time your ass comes over.”

“I thought Brittany took that with her!” Kurt exclaimed, slapping his hands on the table.

“No, I kept it. Well, before what’s her face trashed it.” Just thinking about it had Santana pouting. That lamp had been with her throughout college, through Brittany, and even through her lonely months. It was a constant feature in her life, and now it was lying in some landfill in pieces.

“She’s already gone up in my estimation,” Kurt declared, grinning proudly.

“Shut up, I liked the lamp. My apartment, my choice, my lamp.” Narrowing her eyes, she sunk back in her chair and pursed her lips. Maybe she could replace it with something similar.

“It was hideous. She did you a favour.”

“I actually think she broke it on purpose, but I can’t prove it,” she muttered, wondering just how said lamp had been shattered into a million pieces. It was almost like her roommate had picked it up and lobbed it at the wall.

“She sounds crazy. Are you sure it’s safe to live there?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. She’s a complete psycho, but not the serial killer type.” Well, at least Santana hoped she wasn’t. The girl didn’t send out that vibe, but it can be hard to tell.

“Yeah, you haven’t filled me with much confidence here, and as much as I am pained to admit it, you dying because your roommate is a looney tune would suck.”

“Aww thanks!”  Santana was actually surprised by his kind words, and he gained a few points for that. Sadly, his next words ruined it.

“I don’t get paid until the end of the month and right now my budget does not include a funeral appropriate outfit. It would be completely inconvenient.”

“Lovely,” she replied dryly, ignoring Kurt’s serious tone.

“So that’s one for the sink, one for the lamp, what else did she break?” he asked after a drink of his coffee.

“She hasn’t broken anything else, touch wood,” Santana said, patting the table. “She baked me one for the one month anniversary of us living together.” Kurt raised his eyebrows at that in his classic ‘are you serious?’ look. “I know. Then she baked me one for doing her laundry.”

“You did her laundry?” Satan was actually helping out other people, what had the world come to?

“Totally was accidental. I saw clothes in the hamper, did it on a whim, didn’t even realise they were hers.” Shrugging, she tried to brush it off as nothing, but yeah, that wasn’t likely to happen. Despite it being an accident, it was too ‘nice’ an action for someone like her.

“And after the laundry?”

“She baked me one for ordering her vegan take out when I was getting mine.”

“She’s vegan? You’re eating vegan cake?”  Shooting Kurt a disgusted look, Santana shook her head and scoffed.

“No. She makes it with eggs and shit, so she can’t even eat the damn things.” It made absolutely no sense to her why the girl didn’t just make ones they could both eat, or why she had to bake in the first place.

“Are they any good?” That would be the deciding factor, Kurt thought. If his roommate was making crappy cakes and he was expected to eat them, then it would never last.

“Oh hell yeah. They’re fucking awesome. Like food orgasms, but I’ve had about 7 cakes in the month and I can’t, I just can’t have anymore.” No matter how good they were, the sickly sweet taste wasn’t so orgasmic after the fifth one, and after the seventh, Santana’s stomach was completely protesting.

“Have you told her this?”

“Pft. No.” Why the hell would she tell the girl?

“Why not?”

“I don’t wanna-“ Santana cut her sentence short and shrugged. She really didn’t want to explain to Kurt Hummel, of all people, why she didn’t want to tell her psycho roommate to stop baking.

“You don’t want to what?” Kurt was so not done with that sentence, even if Santana wanted to pretend she had never started it. He was looking at her like he smelt blood in the water and it was useless to fight, so she sighed and gave in.

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings,” she mumbled. “She’s actually a pretty good roommate, minus the sink and the lamp, and all the damn cakes. But she is, she’s a good roommate, and I’m worried that if I tell her then she’ll want to move out or something.” Santana didn’t worry about nobody, but yeah, the fact her roommate wasn’t a psycho and could pay her rent on time ever month meant she cared, kinda.

“Let me get this straight, she destroyed your $800 sink, almost flooded the kitchen that same day, smashed that gaudy lamp you loved so much, possibly on purpose, and seems to be on a mission to give you diabetes before your thirty, yet she’s still a good roommate?” This was completely baffling to Kurt, and he was convinced something fishy had gone down while he was out of town.

“Shit, when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound great, but yeah.  She is. She is a good roommate.” She didn’t know why she was trying to justify the situation, but she still found herself doing just that.

“How?” If Santana was screwing her, that would make perfect sense, but so far Kurt had heard no hints towards such a relationship taking place between the two of them.

Taking a sip of her coffee, Santana shrugged and began to ramble out all the good things about her roommate.

“She leaves me extras in the fridge when she knows I’m working late, and tacks a note on the fridge door so I know they’re there.” The first time that happened, it had been such a shock Santana didn’t know how to say thank you the next day.

“She is also ridiculously tidy, and sees no problem with tidying my shit up, too. She doesn’t bother me when I’m chilling out. If I’m sitting in the lounge playing Xbox and drinking beer, she’ll sit down with me, crack open one herself and read a book or whatever. She doesn’t care, and if there is something on she wants to watch while I’m playing, she’ll politely ask me to record it when I get to the next save point. If I can’t do that, then it’s no big deal. No big deal, Kurt. And it’s not, she missed some movie she wanted to watch because I forgot to record the damn thing and she just smiled at me and said she’d catch it another time.”

“Did you bake _her_ a cake for forgetting to do that?” That would be the polite thing to do.

“What? No. Of course not.” Santana didn’t bake, and she wasn’t going to start just because of her roommate. The cakes were her idea, not Santana’s. It was not a quid pro quo system.

“Did you at least make it up to her?”

“Well, yeah, I felt guilty. She was excited about it and I fucked up. I needed to fix it.” Even though her roommate had been so relaxed about it, her conscience told her to make it up to the girl somehow.

“What did you do?” Kurt was ready and waiting with his judgement, she just knew.

“I went out and bought the damn movie for her.” It had been a bugger to find, and she’d wanted to order it but that would have taken days, so she took to the shops instead.

“Awww!” Okay, so that was actually nice of Satan, and Kurt couldn’t help but smile at her. Who knew she had it in her?

“Stop it. I just didn’t want her slitting my throat in my sleep or something,” Santana groaned, rolling her eyes at him.

“I thought you said she wasn’t the serial killer type?”

“She’s not. She’s vegan. She can’t even stand the idea of someone  cracking an egg let alone taking a knife to my throat. She looks at me like I’ve murdered someone every time I make scrambled eggs. Totally kills my mood for greasy breakfast food. How she’s even baking me these damn cakes is beyond me.” It was a mystery, but one Santana didn’t want to find out.

Kurt watched as Santana frowned in thought and knew there was something different about this roommate. The true test would be whether she made the cut. After Santana’s last roommate, a fiery redhead who Santana was convinced was stealing from her, a new system had been put in place. Any subsequent roommate would get a trial period of three months. It was enough time for Santana to get the feel of them properly, and short enough that if they were a train wreck she wouldn’t have to endure them for too long.

“So are you thinking she’ll make the cut? It’s already been two months, right?”

“Two months, yeah.” Two very interesting months.

“And?” Her answer either meant he was going to have to start paying attention next time she mentioned the roommate, or if he was going to put this in his memory as ‘another crazy Santana lived with’.

“And yeah, she’ll make the cut, if she wants to stay that is. I mean, she might flip her lid or something after I ask her to stop baking cakes. She might not stay.” It was a possibility, one Santana didn’t like.

“You want her to, though.” That much was clear from how she spoke about the girl.

“Yeah, she’s easy.” Kurt smirked and chuckled under his breath, causing Santana to shoot him a glare in aggravation. “Not like that you asshole. I haven’t slept with her.” So that ruled that out, Kurt thought, surprised Santana hadn’t made a move.

“You’ve thought about it though.”

“Obviously.” Of course she had, her roommate was attractive, and they lived with each other. Such close proximity every day meant there was bound to be some lascivious thoughts now and then.

“When do I get to meet her?” Kurt asked, deciding enough was enough. Whether Santana knew it or not, this girl was going to be sticking around for a lot longer than she maybe anticipated and he definitely wanted to get to know her.

“Shit, really?” Santana really hadn’t expected Kurt to be interested. He wasn’t bothered by the last roommate, so why was this one any different?

“Yes, really. I need to meet the woman who finally was able to rid you of that hideous lamp. I should buy her a gift in thanks.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“No, seriously, when do I get to meet her?”

“Eh…I don’t know. She’s pretty private. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or anything, so maybe in a few weeks or something.” Kurt’s eyes widened in surprise at having to wait so long and he went to protest but she shut him down. “Don’t give me that look, she is. She’s a private person. The apartment is like her sanctuary or something. I don’t ask.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Santana Lopez?” That was it, the person before him was not Santana Lopez. He was sitting with an imposter. She’d been abducted while he was in L.A.

“What do you mean?” Santana was frowning in confusion, wondering what the hell he was on about.

“Since when did you ever care about someone’s privacy?”

“What? She a good roommate. I don’t want to jeopardize anything.” And she didn’t. She kinda liked the girl there, and it meant her mortgage payment was paid in full each month, so why would she want to cock that up?

Her roommate was doing her a huge favour by living with her, whether the girl knew it or not. Santana had initially bought her apartment with Brittany, when the two of them were still going strong and thinking about starting a life together. It hadn’t lasted, and when Brittany was offered a job in L.A. she just couldn’t turn down, Santana was left paying everything herself.

It would be worth it in the end, when it was hers completely, but until then she needed to rely on someone else to help out. It was actually Kurt who had suggested she get a roommate when her pay check wasn’t going to cover the payment needed, and it had taken her a while to warm up with the idea. Once the mortgage had eaten into her savings, though, she didn’t have an option.

Finding a suitable roommate was hard, especially when she was asking for so much. Given her age, it also felt a little peculiar. Most of her friends were settling down, getting married and having kids, not seeking roommates. But low and behold, after two disasters before her, Rachel Barbra Berry walked into her life needing a place to stay.

It took them a while to work out the kinks, learn each other’s behaviour and routines, but they had it down perfectly now. Of course, there were still teething problems, like the goddamn cakes, but those could be overlooked. The rent made up for that, to some extent.

“You need to tell her about the cakes, it’ll only get worse otherwise.”

“I know, I know. How the hell do you tell someone that though? She’s being nice, which is weird in itself, but if I tell her to stop I come over as the asshole.”

“When really she’s the asshole for baking them?” Kurt was confused, this wasn’t making sense. Santana normally had no problem with teling people what she thought about someone or something, so what was the issue now?

“No. No, she’s not an asshole. She’s sweet, fucking crazy, but sweet.”

“I really need to meet this girl.”

“You will, eventually.” Santana was dreading that meeting. The longer she could prolong it, the better it would be.

“I better, or who knows? I might just pop over one night with a bottle of wine and introduce myself.” That earned Kurt a filthy glare and he sunk back in his chair. Turned out Satan still had it.

“You do that and I will email that porno you and Blaine shot to Sebastian. God only knows he’d love to see it.”

“So, I’ll just wait for an invite then.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Santana smiled sweetly at him, pleased that she could still scare the shit out of people.

After finishing up their coffee, and with plans to meet same time next week, Kurt suggested a little window shopping. Somehow Santana ended up being dragged along, but she really couldn’t complain too much. It was either that or sit at home by herself. She’d take the lesser of the two evils, even if it meant Kurt’s questionable fashion advice being harped in her ear for three hours straight.

*0*0*

One week later, it was Santana who burst in through the café door late. Kurt had been waiting for fifteen minutes, and after three texts, each one spliced with rambling Spanish curses, he knew it was better to wait than to leave. After all, there was a story to be told, and it sounded like a good one.

Grabbing her coffee, Santana strode over to Kurt’s table in the back and took a seat. She was so wound up from her morning she felt like there was steam coming out her ears. She just couldn’t wrap her head around what the hell was happening.

Kurt sat patiently and waited, it was only going to be a matter of time before she exploded and revealed all. So, taking a tentative sip of his coffee, he rose his eyebrow in question and Santana sighed and shook her head roughly.

“You’ll never believe what she’s gone and done.” Of course, _she_ being the roommate, who else? It seemed that was all Santana had to talk about lately, and if he wasn’t interested before, he certainly was now. He’d never seen her so worked up over a girl since college.

“What did she do?” He was not going to guess. It really could have been anything. “Though, before you answer, can you just explain how you’re still living with her? I thought she was a good roommate, yet you bitch about her like she’s the devil.”

“No, she’s not that bad. She’s just fucking crazy,” Santana replied, knowing her roommate really wasn’t that bad, despite her whining.

“Explain.” Rolling her eyes at his demand, Santana sunk back in her chair and counted to ten before even attempting to start.

“I told her about the cakes, right? I said that they were too much for me and I couldn’t eat them anymore. So she smiles and says it’s totally fine, and she was completely calm about the whole thing-“

“And then you caught her standing over your bed while you were sleeping?” Kurt suggested, cutting in.

“What? No. Of course not. No.” Shaking her head, Santana dismissed that thought and moved on. “She’s not that fucking crazy. Anyway, I wake up this morning to these.” Reaching into her bag, Santana pulled out a small metal tin and shoved it at Kurt. He accepted it grudgingly, just knowing he was going to bruise from her violence.

“What are these?” he asked, opening up the tin.

“They’re ‘I’m sorry’ cookies,” Santana replied, her words tasting like gravel in her mouth. She could hardly believe the ridiculousness of the situation. It was almost too much to handle.

“I’m sorry cookies?”

“Yep.” Santana pursed her lips and shook her head at her roommates audacity and cheek.

“She made you ‘I’m sorry’ cookies?” Kurt asked again.

“Yep.” It really wasn’t fucking rocket science, he should have got it by now.

“What is she apologising for?” For all Kurt knew, the girl could have trashed another one of Santana’s beloved, but hideous, belongings.

“The cakes,” Santana spat, that word like poison to her lips. Kurt tried to hide his smile behind his coffee cup but was failing miserably, and he knew he had been caught from the glare he was receiving.

“It is not funny, you jackass. She’s totally taking the piss! And this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg,” Santana cried, waving her hand at the tin before him.

 “Oh?” He knew as soon as he’d asked he shouldn’t have. Santana’s eyes lit up with pent up energy, and she fired out her rant in one.

“Yeah! My worktops are covered in muffins, cookies, gingerbread men, and pastries. It’s like a fucking bakery up in there! I don’t even know how the fuck she’s doing it. She gets in after midnight, and I know she’s not baked anything in the day, and then I wake up to fricking éclairs on the counter top and muffins by the coffeepot. I mean, does she have an army of elves or gnomes slaving over the oven every night? What is happening in my apartment? Did she open up shop somewhere? Really, who the fuck is she, Betty fucking Crocker?!”

“Okay, calm down for a minute. Take a breath.” As amused as he was, Santana’s spiel was attracting curious eyes, and he didn’t want them getting chucked out.

“She can’t even eat half of it,” Santana whined, shaking her head. “Why, Kurt, why is she doing this to me? Am I not a good roommate?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Their brief stint as roommates had been painful, and he was still scarred. The girl needed to learn to put on more clothes. Not everyone wanted to see so much skin.

“Shut up,” Santana grumbled, sulking over her coffee. She was exhausted, the muscles in her neck beginning to ache and the start of a headache coming on. She really just wanted to go home and sleep, but if she did she’d be faced with what’s her faces bake sale in the front room, and she was not ready to deal with that.

“Is she still going to make the cut?” Kurt asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know anymore. Can I live like this? I honestly think she’s punishing me, but I don’t know what I’ve done. Do you think she knows I was stealing her shampoo, could that be it?”

The girl before his eyes was pathetic, and it was almost frightening to see. Whoever this roommate was, she had some special power to be able to reduce Santana to a whining mess without alcohol involved.

“I honestly don’t have a clue, but you should talk to her.”

“Why? If I do she’ll probably end up baking me something extravagant in apology.” Shuddering at the thought, Santana bit back the urge to vomit all over the floor.

“Maybe ask her not to.”

“You try saying no to those eyes and that pout.”

Yeah, Santana Lopez was in way over her head, and she didn’t even know it. Smiling to himself, Kurt was excited to see how this would pan out. Either she’d lose her rag and verbally crucify the girl, or she’d whine and cry and beg her to stop. Both would be amusing to see.

“These cookies are actually really good. Can I keep them?”

“No, get your own damn cookies.” Snatching back the tin, Santana grabbed one form the top and took a bite. Despite how sickly she felt, she just couldn’t stop. She was doomed.

*0*0*

Thursday night came round, and Santana was alone in her apartment. Sitting in the living room with some crappy cop show on for background noise, she was huddled over her laptop working. She had a lot of shit to get done, and not enough time to do it. However, she was out of beer and she only did her best work at home three beers in so that had to be rectified.

Getting up off the couch, she briefly wondered if her colleagues, and students, knew she did her best marking after getting liquored up. Those old bastards in her department were probably doing the same, and from what she’d read so far, some of her students had to be stoned while writing these papers. Therefore, it was only fair she joined the party.

Opening the fridge, she noticed her roommate’s leftovers and inspected them quickly. If there was anything worth eating, she could maybe sneak some and replace it later. Thankfully, there was a Tupperware box one shelf down with a post-it note attached, which had her name on it. God, she fucking loved her roommate sometimes. The woman wasn’t even around and yet she fed her. What kind of heaven was this?

If only there was sex involved in this semi-agreement, then she’d have met her perfect woman. And nope, she wasn’t even going to think about that revelation. Not touching that topic with a ten foot pole.

With the food in hand and beer in the other, Santana began to make her way back to the living room when the phone started ringing. No way was she answering it. The machine could pick it up. She screened her calls for a reason; most weren’t for her, and it was weird talking to your roommate’s father when she wasn’t around. It was even creepier when he called back the next day and sounded totally different. What was up with that?

Taking a seat, she began flicking the channels when the recorded message started, and after the beep a cheery and chirpy voice rang through the apartment.

“Hey Rach! It’s Avery, I’m calling about tomorrow night’s get together. Turns out, I will be able to make it, and I’m really looking forward to seeing the new place. I think Gabby and Claire are also coming with me. Anyway, call me back and let me know you’ve got this. See you then! Bye!” The answering machine beeped once before going silent, and Santana sat frozen.

Holy shit, she’d forgotten.

Scrambling for the phone, she dialled Kurt’s number as fast as she could. He couldn’t have plans on a Friday night, he just couldn’t. He needed to be there for her. He was a total spaz when it came to socialising anyway, and if he ever wanted to meet her roommate he’d cancel whatever lame plans he had and be there for her in her time of need. Damn right.

“Hello, Anderson and Hummel residence, how can I help you?” Blaine answered, sounding far too pleasant for her mood right now.

“Ugh, fucking hell, Warbler, learn to answer the phone like a normal person. Put Kurt on.” She had no time for pleasantries, not that she’d waste them on Blaine anyway.  

“Evening to you, too, Santana.”

“Whatever, just get Kurt.” Seriously, could the man not tell she was in a hurry? She needed to know if Kurt had plans because if he did she was going to have to get desperate and start calling her other friends, the non-existent ones.

Listening for Kurt, Santana heard Blaine walk through their apartment, opening and closing doors, and passing a blaring TV on the way. Sounded like they had been watching the same crappy cop show she’d been watching. Good to know she was right, the ex-boyfriend did it. Didn’t they always?

“The devil’s on the phone,” Blaine called, and Santana frowned.

“The devil? Oh!” She could hear the confusion in Kurt’s voice, and then his laughter as he realised who Blaine meant. Bitches obviously didn’t think she could hear them. They’d totally pay for that later. “Hey Santana, how’s it going?”

“It’s going fucking grand,” she replied dryly.

“What’s the roommate done now?” Kurt asked exasperatedly. Pft. What was he complaining about? Since he’s been back he’s fucking loved hearing about her crazy roommate’s antics.

“She actually hasn’t done anything.” Really, Santana couldn’t blame the girl for having an active social life and actual friends.

“So why the call?” He sounded suspicious, and she would have been, too.

“You wanted to meet her, right? Well, now you can.” Her voice was a little too fake, but that didn’t seem to matter.

“Really?” Kurt sounded far too excited about this. Maybe she should hang up now and forget all about it. God only knows he’d embarrass her somehow.

“Eh…yeah.” She’d committed, there was nothing she could do. She could not back out. “We’re having this thing on Friday night. She has the night off for some reason. Something about her understudy’s grandmother coming in or whatever and yeah, I tuned her out after that. She has the night off, she’s never met my friends, I’ve not met hers. We’re having a thing.”

“Next Friday?”

“No, this Friday.”

“Oh good Lord. What, was I not invited or something? Is that why you’re asking me the night before?”

“No, I totally forgot about it. She rambles, and she talks in paragraphs and it’s really confusing to keep up with her. Seriously, fucking motor mouth, and not in the good way.”

“Gee, and you wonder why you have a hard time keeping friends with statements like that.”

“Shut up. Are you coming or not? You’re like the only friend I have, and she seems to have like twenty or something coming.” Okay, the answering machine only mentioned three, but there were definitely others. She was sure of it.

“Of course I’m coming. I’m not passing up the chance to meet her. It might never happen again. Heck, I’ll even drag along Blaine to make you look more popular.”

“Oh wow, a night with the wonder twin, now I can’t wait.” Fucking hell, she should have just hung up when she had the chance.

“Be quiet, he’ll score you points. Unless you want to look like the loser with no friends surrounded by her roommates twenty odd friends?”

“Okay, I’ll be nice to the Warbler. Just make sure he doesn’t trash talk me to anyone who’ll listen.”

“The two of you have a relationship I’ll never understand.”

“The two of _you_ have a relationship I’ll never understand,” Santana replied, shaking her head.

“That is complicated and we’re not going to discuss it any further.” Pft, pussy.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I got to go. Be here at seven. Bring classy booze.” Hanging up, Santana dropped the phone back in the cradle and sighed.

Two, she had two friends coming tomorrow. That wasn’t bad. It wasn’t great, either, but she couldn’t be picky. Though, it was not going to be enough, and fuck it, she needed to call some more people. Maybe she could blackmail some into attending. Fucking score, that would get her at least one more.

An hour and a half later, after countless threats and much grovelling, she had scored a total of five people attending tomorrow night’s get together. That seemed satisfactory, a good amount, suggesting strong friendship ties and a closely bonded group. Didn’t matter if that was complete bullshit, they could fake it for a night.

Satisfied with her work, Santana settled back in with her laptop and got back down to business, only to have the phone ring again. The answering machine picked it up, and the colour drained from her face with each passing word.

“Hey Rachel! Jesse said you’re having a get together this Friday, so me and the boys thought we’d stop by and see your new place. Greg, Tom, Shaun, Mike and Matt will be coming with me. We’ll get there around nine, give me a call with your address. See ya!”

Fuck, she was going to look like a total loser. Why it mattered what her roommate thought of her, she didn’t know, but it was still enough to have Santana sighing hopelessly. There was just no way she could match the number of friends her roommate had, and really, where the fuck had all her friends gone? She used to have loads. What happened?

Pitiful, the whole situation was pitiful, and if she thought for one second she could get away with cancelling the whole thing, she would. However, her roommate was a force to be reckoned with, using her best abilities, those eyes and those goddamn pouty lips of hers, and there was just no way Santana could say no to that face.

She wouldn’t want to disappoint the girl anyway, especially not when she hadn’t agreed to stay longer than three months yet. No, Santana needed her to pay her mortgage. Keeping her around had nothing to do with the regular meals, the company, and the crazy antics that kept her more amused than annoyed. It was purely financial reasoning as to why she had to keep her roommate sweet. Only for the rent. Definitely.

*0*0*

 


	2. Meeting the Roommate

* * *

*0*0*

Santana’s place was packed, and she didn’t know a single person there. Her roommate had buggered off to get something from the store on the corner, and she had been left holding the fort. That would have been great if she wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of strangers. She was definitely the odd one out, and she hated it.

Hiding in the kitchen, aptly positioned next to the booze, Santana had a clear view of the doorway. Her people should have arrived by now. So where the hell were they? Didn’t they want to endure this pain with her?

It was at that point that she saw the greased up head of one Warbler walking into her apartment, with Kurt on his arm. The two of them surveyed the room, and by the time they spotted Santana they looked like they were about to jizz their pants.

“What’s up with the creepy looks?” Santana asked, forgoing the normal greetings.

“Who are these people?” Kurt asked, pointing round the room.

“Strangers off the street. Who do you think? They’re my roommate’s friends.” Santana rolled her eyes, and tried not to look curious as Warbler and Porcelain practically creamed themselves at her response.

“Who do you live with?”

“Why?” They were creeping her out, and if they kept it up, they’d have to go.

“Because we are surrounded by Broadway royalty!” Kurt squealed, clapping his hands excitedly. “These people are dancers and choreographers, singers and actors, true artists to the craft!”

“I haven’t got a fucking clue what you’re talking about.” Seriously, she understood all the words, but had no idea what he was saying.

“Broadway, Santana, Broadway! They’re not struggling drama students busking in Time’s Square. They’re Broadway stars! See that guy there, he just finished performing-“

“I really don’t care. Are you two going to act like human beings or am I going to have to throw your fan-girling asses out?”

“No, we’ll be good!” Blaine chimed in, smiling brightly. Santana wanted to punch the smile right off his face, but she knew it wouldn’t be polite to start a brawl at her own party. 

Watching the two of them scurry off into the living room, Santana grabbed a fresh bottle of beer and slyly slipped through the crowd towards the door. She wasn’t ditching the party, but she needed to get some air. Yeah, some lovely stale stairwell air.

No one seemed to notice her exit, but who would? She didn’t have a fucking clue who they were, and they likely didn’t know she owned the damn place. Despite her roommate attempting to introduce her to her friends, Santana had stopped listening after the fourth overly excited grin was shot her way.

“Hiding from your own party?” a voice called, making Santana turn to see who had just come up the stairs. She’d been too busy trying to scope out Kurt and Warbler though the crack in the door to notice.

“Something like that,” she replied, smiling when Dave came into view. Just the sight of him improved her mood and the evening was looking up. “Thanks for coming. I’m a total fucking loser compared to my roommate.”

“Kurt and that inside?” Dave asked, cracking a smile. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other, looking very spruced up.

“Yeah, but I wish they weren’t.” God only knows what those two were doing. They probably _had_ jizzed their pants by now.

“Embarrassing you?”

“Like always.” She really needed to learn. Kurt and Warbler were never a good idea. Dave, on the other hand, was always a good idea. Why had she even invited the other two?

Taking the beer from Dave’s hands, Santana handed back her untouched one and set about opening one that wasn’t chilled. Using her teeth, the poor student’s bottle opener, she cracked the top off and clinked it with Dave’s outstretched one.

“Cheers, though you know I wouldn’t have minded a warm one.”

“You’re a guest, and you know, that’ll probably the only nice thing I do all night so it might as well be for you. You’re not into Broadway are you?” God, she wouldn’t be able to cope if he said he was. Kurt’s reaction had been bad enough, Blaine’s was just downright painful. If she had to deal with Dave on top of that she might just get her coat and leave.

“Broadway?” Dave took a sip of his beer and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Yeah, musicals, singing, dancing, prancing, all that. You a fan?” They’re friendship was riding on this answer.

“No.” And that’s why she could count on Dave. Score!

“Good, I knew you were the right guy to invite to this thing.” Definitely a smart choice, unlike the two nutcases she had let run loose.

“Why?” Taking a sip of her beer, Santana shrugged and shook her head. She didn’t quite know what to say, as she really didn’t know why her living room was packed with ‘true artists’ as Kurt had called them.

“Apparently my roommate knows a bunch of them, I don’t know, they’re all in my apartment.”

“And that’s why you’re not in it?” Dave asked, smirking. Of course Santana would run from a scene like that. She never was one to own up to what she liked, and Dave knew for sure that she had a pretty decent collection of musicals hidden away somewhere.

“Something like that.”

“So where’s your roommate? Sam said she was a bit of a spitfire.” That had Santana frowning, and she racked her brain to think of the last time she’d spoken to Sam. It had been months, back when he was still living in New York, and sleeping on Quinn’s couch.

“Sam? How would Sam know about-“ The only person she’d told about her roommate was… “Kurt.”

“Kurt,” Dave confirmed, nodding. She should have fucking known that weasel wouldn’t have kept his mouth shut. When did he ever?

“She’s actually not in right now but I’ll introduce you two when she gets back. At least with you I know you won’t embarrass me.” Dave was a decent, upstanding guy; she had faith in him. He wouldn’t let the team down.

“You want to bet on that? I mean, I have all the high school stories, covering everything from awkward puberty stages to prom night,” Dave teased, waving his beer bottle at her. Fucker should have known better.

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight, there was never an awkward puberty stage. I’ve looked fucking glorious my whole life. Second, prom night, really, Dave? You want to go down that road? Cause if I recall, it was you who couldn’t quite follow through with the tradition, something about stage fright? But you know, with all these actors and actresses here, I’m sure they’d be happy to help you-“

“Alright, alright, shut the fuck up.” Chuckling, he shook his head and regretted ever mentioning it. Knowing Santana, she’d follow through with her threat just to spite him.

In his defence, though, he was confused and hadn’t quite worked out he batted for the other team. Really, he should have sussed it when he couldn’t get it up for Santana when she was half naked in front of him, but still. Totally not his fault.

“That’s right, you remember who’s boss. My threats always work,” she gloated, feeling smug.

“Pft. You’re about as threatening as a puppy.” Dave’s words wiped the smile off Santana’s face and she shot him a glare, getting ready to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on his ass. He could snap her like a twig but he wouldn’t, he was a sweetheart like that and would let her rant and rave all she liked.

“Keep talking, Dave, and I’ll get out that picture of you in your Bully Whips outfit. You were really rocking that beret and satin jacket.”

“And you wonder why you don’t have friends,” Dave replied, taking a swig of his beer.  People kept saying that about her. Why? What was she doing wrong? She was nice, to some extent, and she was a riot to have around, so what was their problem?

The apartment door opened and Kurt stuck his head out, looking far too excited at the prospect of finding Santana. She wanted to crawl into the wall and have it swallow her up. He was up to no good, and God only knows what damage control she’d have to do later.

“Santana, where’s your copy of Rent?!” Kurt asked, grinning. Finally noticing someone else in the hall, he turned and cocked his head to the side, his smile only faltering slightly. “Oh, Dave, hey! I didn’t know you’d be joining us tonight.”

“Someone needed to make this one look cool. No offence,” Dave said, pointing to Santana and shrugging back at Kurt. Yeah, that’s exactly why Dave was there, and Santana nodded in agreement, happy that he’d pointed it out.

“Offence taken. So, Santana, where can I find your Rent DVD?” Frowning again, Santana bit back the venom just waiting to be spat out and went for the softer approach.

“What the fuck do you want my Rent DVD for?”

“Someone’s going to sign it and then I’m going to give you mine,” Kurt explained like it was so goddamn obvious. And what the fuck? What was he doing in there?

“What? No! Don’t make anyone sign anything.”

“But-“ Silencing him with a glare, Santana shook her head and stood up straight. This was one situation she could not be lenient on or she’d go back in to find all of her roommates friends tied to her furniture signing all her belongings so Kurt could sell them on eBay or something.

“No. Contain yourself for a couple of hours, that’s all I’m asking.”

“I don’t think you’re asking, I think you’re telling.” Kurt stuck up his nose at her tone and crossed his arms. She was being so difficult. Didn’t she know he’d never get another chance like this?

“Good, I’m glad you picked up on that. I am telling you, no one’s signing anything.” Raising her eyebrow at him, she waited for him to challenge her again but he thought better of it.

“You’re ruining my life,” Kurt barked, spinning away and retreating into the crowd of strangers.

“So he’s still dramatic as always,” Dave commented, smiling in amusement.

“Aren’t you glad you missed out on that?” Immediately Dave’s checks turned a particular pink hue and Santana chuckled under her breath. “Aww don’t blush, Dave. I’ll never be able to get you a strong strapping man looking like that.”

“I don’t know, I kinda like that look on him.” Turning to see who had joined their conversation, both Santana and Dave groaned. Sebastian was strutting towards them with a cocky little grin on his face and an aura of pure evil emitting from him.

“Oh Good Lord, I thought you couldn’t come?” Santana just knew _that_ phone call would bite her in the ass.

“Nah, I changed my mind, and thank you for addressing me correctly. If Good Lord is too fancy, you could always try Your Highness, Your Holiness or Master. I accept all,” he purred, winking at Dave.

“How about You Pretentious Prick, does that one work, too?” Dave chuckled behind his beer as Santana waited for an answer, but much to her annoyance, Sebastian’s smirk remained firmly in place.

“A bit nasty for my taste.” Shaking his head, Sebastian shrugged off his jacket and held it out for Santana to take. She looked at it as if it was contaminated and shot him her typical ‘eat shit’ look before he put it over his arm, completely amused with her antics. This was why he just had to attend. When else was he going to get such a prime opportunity to wind her up? Plus, there was free booze.

“So thanks for the invite, Satan. Can see things are in full swing.” Sebastian nodded towards the open door and the crowd of people inside.

“Yeah, but things are winding down so maybe it’s time you left.”

“Not a chance. Ooh, wine. And a good bottle, too. You have glasses?”

“Yeah, I keep my wineglasses in the hall. Best place for them. I suggest you do the same,” Santana replied dryly, earning an eye roll from Sebastian and a smile from Dave.

“Funny. I swear it’s like being around cave people. So uncivilised.” Nodding to the both of them, Sebastian headed straight into her apartment and began his search for a decent wine glass. Hopefully she’d actually have a glass wineglass, and none of this plastic cheap crap he’d had to endure previously. It always was a hit and miss with her, though.

“You invited Sebastian?” Dave asked, once he was out of earshot.

“I was desperate.” It was not a valid excuse, she knew that. She’d invited the Grim fucking Reaper to her gathering, on what planet did she think that was a good idea? Yeah, she was looking for friends, but again, why the fuck did she think Sebastian constituted that?

“No kidding,” Dave muttered. Looking back into the apartment, Dave saw Kurt and Blaine’s pained expressions as Sebastian approached them, and then scanned the crowd for any other familiar faces. It was at this point he realised he had no clue who anyone else was, and just how many there were. “How many friends does your roommate have exactly?”

 “Fuck knows. At first it was like five and then they multiplied, and I’m convinced they’re in there breeding and cloning themselves. There is just too many. But go see for yourself. No need to hang around in the hallway with me.”

Really, Santana needed Dave to play referee now that Satan’s Spawn was running around her place. Sebastian could not be trusted on a good day, and with that cocky smirk she knew this was a very, very bad day. Her reputation was probably going to shit right now.

“You want me to go check on Sebastian, don’t you?” Dave asked, seeing right through her.

“Yeah, go rein him in. Give him a spanking if you need to, just make sure he doesn’t talk crap about me.”

“It’s probably too late for that, but I’ll try,” Dave answered, taking Santana’s empty beer bottle from her and giving her another.

“Thanks, Dave.” With a parting smile, she was left in the hallway alone. Though, not for long. It seemed she couldn’t get a moments peace.

Upon seeing the face of the person intruding on her alone time, however, Santana didn’t care. Her roommate was walking towards her with a bag in one hand and skip in her step, looking as amazing as always, wrapped up in her coat and scarf.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” she called up the hall, finally catching sight of Santana. Immediately, Rachel’s brow furrowed and she glanced inside the apartment. It looked busy, and she knew that was her fault. Clearly Santana wasn’t having a good time, and she had even sought refuge in the stairwell. Gosh, Rachel was a horrible roommate.  

Coming to a stop a few feet in front of Santana, Rachel licked her lips and nodded towards the door. “Is this too much? I’m so sorry, half of them weren’t even meant to be here but their show got cancelled and I felt that they needed a little cheering up. If you want, I can ask them to leave. I could even feign sickness if that’s what’s required. Just give me ten minutes tops and I’ll have the place looking like no one was even here.” Trying to step past Santana and into the apartment, Rachel suddenly was stopped by a hand gripping onto the sleeve of her coat.

“What? No, it’s fine. Relax. I just needed some air.” Santana was frowning at the smaller girl, completely confused as to why she had freaked like that. Yeah, there were a lot of people, but it wasn’t a problem. Santana was just an antisocial fucker, Rachel shouldn’t have to be penalised for that.

“Yeah, I hear New York stairwell air is some of the best. It’s so much better than L.A. stairwell air, that stuff is toxic, you’ve got to be careful,” Rachel teased, earning a smile. Santana nudged her shoulder and shook her head, hating how adorable her roommate could be.

“What you got?” she asked, hoping to distract from the sudden butterfly attack taking place in her stomach. Rachel looked down to see what Santana was referring to, and held her bag up for Santana to see.

“Oh, I bought some non-alcoholic beer, some sparkling water, and some baby carrots. It struck me while I was setting up that I had loads of food for everyone else to eat, but hardly any for me to snack on. Baby carrots seemed appropriate.”  Rachel smiled proudly, nodding her head to reaffirm her decision and Santana’s defences melted a little bit more.

“Cute,” she replied, shooting the brunette a smile. She was cute, she was terribly cute. So fucking cute it hurt, and she was completely off limits. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

Rachel’s cheeks pinked up at Santana’s words, and she then realised what she’d said. “I mean, they’re cute cause they’re…baby carrots? You know, because carrots aren’t cute, but baby carrots are?” What the fuck? What the actual fuck? What was that? Why did she even open her mouth?

“Are your friends here?” Rachel asked, thankfully breaking the awkward tension Santana’s reply had left behind. She had found it amusing, and rather adorable that her feisty roommate had stumbled over herself to amend what she’d said. Maybe there was hope for things yet.

“Only one,” Santana replied, thankful Dave had turned up.

“Are the others coming? I was really looking forward to meeting the whole gang.” There was no such thing as a gang but clearly Rachel didn’t know that.

“No. I don’t think they can make it.” She wished they hadn’t made it. All she had to do now was keep the Grim Reaper, Warbler and Kurt away from Rachel to ensure a stress free night.

“Aww that’s a shame. Well, let me meet the one who is here. Come on,” Rachel said, smiling at Santana as she took her hand in hers and headed towards the kitchen.

After depositing the non-alcoholic beer in the cooler, and Santana wondering who the fuck that was for, Rachel poured herself a glass of sparkling water. Of course, she wasn’t drinking at her own party, ever being the responsible one. Though, given how Santana already wanted to start a brawl earlier, maybe she shouldn’t be drinking, too.

“Can I have one of these?” she asked, pointing to the non-alcoholic beer, which had Rachel beaming at her.

“Of course you can!” God, if it only took her drinking fake beer to earn a smile like that she’d totally drink it more often.

Just as she was about to take a sip, someone jostled into the side of her in excitement. She mentally groaned at the sight of Kurt and just knew this was not going to go well. She needed someone to come and distract Rachel, something to pull her attention away. Why weren’t her Broadway friends bursting into song? Rachel would eat that shit up. Maybe she could burst into song and get Rachel to join her, too. No, because Kurt would join in as well and that would be fucking horrific.  

“Santana, do you know- Oh my God!” Kurt froze, unable to believe the sight before his very eyes. He only wanted to know if he could try some of the ridiculously classy champagne that was open on the coffee table. He was not expecting this. But whoever expects for their dreams to come true right in front of them? Was this heaven?

“Are you Santana’s friend?” Rachel asked, curiously inquiring. The man seemed to know her roommate, and he certainly wasn’t one of Rachel’s friends, so this had to be the friend she mentioned.

“No,” Santana barked, shaking her head while she attempted to push Kurt away from them. It was failing miserably.

“He knows your name…” Rachel pointed out, cocking her eyebrow amusedly.

“He’s not my friend.” He was definitely not her friend and he never would be. Santana was going to murder him. What the fuck was up with his staring? Why was he embarrassing her like this? Though, on the plus side, he looked like he’d entered a catatonic state and wouldn’t be embarrassing her any further.

“Kurt, did you ask- Oh my God!” Oh great, she’d spoke too soon, Warbler just had to pitch up, too.

“Do you know him, too?” Rachel asked, practically laughing at Santana’s glare.

“Nope, never seen him before in my life.” God, she wished that was true.

“Are they okay?” Rachel was a little worried, both men hadn’t moved and it barely even looked like they were breathing. Maybe she should call someone, or maybe slap them out of it. Was that too dramatic? Would it be considered assault? She needed to look into that.

“I don’t know,” Santana replied, trying to contain her anger. That was the last time she ever invited those two to one of her social gatherings. They were fucking idiots. What the fuck was up with them? “Maybe we should call the cops, tell them intruders have entered our apartment. I think it would be safer.”

“You’re…Oh my God, _you’re_ the roommate?!” Kurt squeaked, finally breaking out of his trace, his eyes going wide. “Santana, you didn’t tell me you were living with _Rachel Berry_! Oh my God, you’re really Rachel Berry, right? I’m not dreaming this? I mean, I’m not going to wake up suddenly back in my apartment am I?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Santana spat, disgusted by this show of adoration. Rachel could only nod at Kurt, curious to see where this was going.

“It’s _Rachel Berry_!” Kurt cried again, trying to explain to Santana the reason for his excited. It was clear she would never understand. She was such a let-down. Kurt had never been more ashamed of his friendship with her than in that moment.

“Yeah, I know her name. I live with her. How the fuck do you know her?” Seriously, someone better start explaining this shit because it wasn’t making any sense. Who the fuck were her friends, stalkers?

“Rachel Berry is a two time Tony award nominee, and a Grammy award nominee. She has dominated Broadway since she was eight years old,” Blaine said, grinning brightly. “Blaine Anderson, pleasure to meet you, and personally, I think you were robbed. You absolutely deserved to win every time you were nominated.”

“Christ, kiss her ass later, Warbler.” That was fucking heinous, and Santana wanted to punch him in the face again. God, that had to be her default setting with him. He just ignited violence in her.

“No, Santana, seriously. How come you’ve never told us you live with _Rachel Berry_?” Kurt asked again, still in awe.

“Can you stop saying her full name? It’s creepy.” Where the fuck was Sebastian when she needed him? He’d have ripped Kurt a new one for the way he was behaving, and it would give her ample time to steer Rachel in another direction.

“That’s not her full name. Her full name is Rachel Barbra Berry,” Blaine corrected, still grinning like a lunatic.

“Now _that’s_ creepy. Stop freaking her out or you can’t stay.” Fucking hell, he had to go anyway. No way was she letting his stalker self stay in her apartment. Before they’d know, Blaine would be rooting through Rachel’s things and sniffing her clothes, creepy fucker that he was. Nope, Santana needed to get Dave to kick him out.

“We’ll be good!” Kurt all but screamed, his eyes still fixed on Rachel. Yeah, no, not happening.

“No. Not buying it. Come on, Rach. Let me introduce you to my friend, Dave.” Rachel didn’t have a choice in the matter and was being pulled away quickly, although rather delicately, she noted. Hiding a smile, she allowed herself to be led further into the crowd.

“I thought you said only one of your friends showed up?” she asked, curious as to why Santana had lied to her. She was more amused than anything else. Why hadn’t Santana wanted her to meet Blaine and that other guy?

“I did, and his name is Dave and he is over here.” Santana was not having any of it, she refused to accept Kurt and Warbler as her friends and she would go to the grave denying them that status.

“But those two guys are your friends, too.”

“Nope, not anymore.”

“Santana!” Rachel cried, laughing and shaking her head. How could her roommate joke like that?

“Rachel!” Santana mocked, coming to stop in front of Dave. Thankfully Sebastian was nowhere in sight. Though, that could cause problems later. He was probably telling people she was the antichrist.

Catching Dave’s attention, he smiled at the short brunette Santana was smiling fondly at and got ready to introduce himself.

As always, Santana could count on Dave to make her look good.

*0*0*

Santana sat on the kitchen counter mesmerised. She couldn’t take her eye of her roommate. The girl was playing some nonsensical game on the coffee table. Most of the guests had left, and only her raggedy group of friends remained, joined by Quinn and Mercedes, and a few of Rachel’s fellow performers.

She had opted to sit out, because it was a drinking game and if she had any hope of keeping her pants on the rest of the evening she’s stick to the non-alcoholic beer, so sat back to watch. The counter gave her the best vantage point, and she could just sit and admire her roommates pretty little smile.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t even notice Quinn get up and join her by the counter. It took a prod to the leg to pull her eyes away. Santana was met with her friends amused smirk and she shook her head clear of her crushing thoughts.

“Kurt says you’re living with an icon,” Quinn said, handing Santana another non-alcoholic beer before getting herself a glass of wine.

“Kurt’s smacked off his tits.” And he was. She was pretty sure she could convince him to get a tattoo on his ass, he was that fucked.

“So you had no idea?” Quinn nodded at Rachel and Santana shook her head. She really hadn’t known. Though, she’d never really paid any attention when Rachel had mentioned it, so that might explain the situation a little.

“Not a fucking clue.”

“Shows how much you know about the people you live with.”

“I really don’t care, I just need her to pay rent.” Pay rent, look pretty, smile at her occasionally. God, this non-alcoholic beer made her sentimental and mushy. What the fuck was up with that? Did they lace it with something to make up for it sucking?

“That’s where you’re wrong, San. You do care. You care a lot about little Miss Broadway over there, whether you want to admit it or not.” Stupid, Q, and her stupid eyes seeing right through her. How many others knew that? Did Rachel know?

“I’m not sleeping with her.” Apparently that was just something Santana needed to add every time someone questioned their friendship. She’d already announced it to three other people that evening, all total strangers, so most likely Rachel’s friends. Hopefully the girl would never find out.

“Not yet,” Quinn added, smirking again. “There’s money riding on this so if you could make a move within the next month, I’d be really happy with you.” Clinking her glass against Santana’s bottle, Quinn gave one parting smile before heading back to the game.

Santana should have felt outraged by this bet taking place, but with Rachel grinning at her like she was the only one in the damn room, she frankly couldn’t care less. Let them squander away their money, and sadly for Quinn, she’d lose. No way could Santana make something happen within a month. She wanted Rachel to stay with her, for quite a while, and if she made a move or let her crush be known that would completely screw things up.

No, she needed to just play it safe. Rachel was sweet and kind and the best fucking roommate she’d ever had. No way did she want to jeopardise that for a quickie now and then. Plus, Santana had met three of Rachel’s ex-boyfriends tonight, and not a single ex-girlfriend, that definitely said something.

Taking another sip of her crappy beer, Santana sighed and resigned herself to the fact that she was most likely crushing on her straight roommate. The world was such a cruel place.

*0*0*

It was well after three a.m. by the time everyone left, and Santana was unfortunately sober enough to be wrangled into cleaning up the apartment with Rachel before heading to bed. She knew she should have drunk her weight in tequila. If she was drunk off her ass, she never would have been made to clean up. But then again, she also would have been half-naked and sobbing uncontrollably. It was a lose-lose no matter what.

Throwing the empty glass bottles into a waste bucket, because there was no way Rachel could sleep if she didn’t recycle properly, Santana watched as her roommate sang under her breath while wrapping up the leftover food. She looked happy, a little buzzed, and had a cute flush to her cheeks. It was good to see her so carefree, so relaxed around her, and Santana just knew that if this girl decided she wanted to move out at any point it would devastate her.

Hopefully, now that she’d met Santana’s friends, she had been charmed, rather than horrified. Santana would have been horrified. Hell, she had been horrified. The only upstanding friends she had were Dave and Quinn, on a good day. The others, good lord, the others were just an embarrassment. Even Mercedes had let her down, and Santana normally didn’t give a shit about what she was up to.  

“I’m sorry about my friends. If I knew they were going to be such fan girls I wouldn’t have invited them,” Santana said, still slightly mortified by Kurt and Warbler’s behaviour.

“You mean to say Blaine and Sebastian are actually your friends?” Rachel teased, having noticed the peculiar friendship between them and her roommate.

“Whatever. I’m sorry they wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Honestly, I didn’t mind. They were kind, polite and asked me more about how I work than who I work with. It was refreshing.” Santana didn’t feel the need to add that a lot of the people Rachel had worked with previously had also been in the room with them.

“Well, you probably won’t be saying that when Kurt brings over his playbills to get you to sign.” He had mentioned it offhandedly but she was expecting him to waltz through her door tomorrow morning at some ridiculous time to get the process started. Rachel had no idea what she was in for. Poor girl.

“Let him, I look forward to it.”

“God, don’t encourage.” If Kurt heard that she’d never get rid of him. “And you know, how come you never told me?”

“Told you?” Rachel looked up, confused and paused what she was doing. There were so many things Santana could have been referencing, she did not want to give the game away about ones the girl didn’t know about by opening her mouth.

“About the fact I’m living with some Broadway hotshot and never knew?”

It had bugged Santana a little. She’d thought back on everything Rachel had said about her career and all Santana knew was that her roommate was a performer in a show, nothing specific. She hadn’t been told what show, where it was, how successful she was or anything. And okay, Santana knew she probably wanted privacy but they lived together, and yes, sometimes Santana didn’t listen when the girl rambled so much, but she would have remember her mentioning something as big as this. She had freaking fan websites! That’s something pretty significant, and something Santana totally should have known about.

“That was actually the reason I wanted to move in here,” Rachel began, pushing her hair out of her face as Santana took a seat on the couch to listen. “You didn’t know who I was, or you just didn’t care. I wasn’t going to ruin my chances of having a good roommate by telling you exactly who I was.”

“So what, if I had reacted like Kurt or Warbler you would never have moved in?” Once again, Santana felt relieved she wasn’t in love with Broadway. Her life would have sucked these last few months without Rachel’s crazy self around.

“Pretty much,” Rachel reply, grinning. “I actually had another roommate interview the day I met you, and the woman knew me right off the bat, raved about how awesome my performance was, begged for details of my upcoming shows, spoke of us being best friends and it was just too much. I wanted to get out there fast. And then there was you. You gave me the once over, drilled me about my work schedule, eating habits, allergies, relationship status, and then asked me how soon I could move in. You didn’t know who I was. It was perfect.”

Rachel had struck gold when she’d met Santana. While most of her friends thought it was strange she wanted to live with a roommate, especially given her success, it was just something she wanted to experience. She had never had a roommate before, and she hated living alone. It was so quiet, so boring, and the company of someone else was comforting.

Ideally, Rachel had hoped that by now she would have a ring on her finger and a Tony in her display cabinet, but clearly the universe had other plans for her. That’s why she was so elated when Santana had treated like her everyone else. It felt like a sign, that she was meant to live with her. And the time they’d spent together so far reaffirmed her idea that this was meant. It had been so much fun, and Santana was great.

Walking over to join Santana, Rachel took a seat and tucked her legs under herself. Santana shuffled round to face the girl and waited, curious to see what else she was going to say.

“You saw me as just Rachel Berry, the girl with no boyfriend or girlfriend, no pets, no allergies, whose usual works hours are from mid-afternoon/early evening onwards until the wee hours of the morning, and no she isn’t a hooker, drug dealer or any other kind of illegal worker, and she could move in right away. _They_ see me as Rachel Berry, Grammy award nominee and two time Tony award nominee, Broadway star, Rachel Berry. I wanted the normality, and you’ve always given it to me.”

“And you’ve given me no sort of normality,” Santana added, shaking her head at the girl.

“Yes, I am sorry about the sink, the lamp and all the cakes. I’ve learnt my lesson. Won’t happen again,” Rachel mumbled, embarrassed with herself. She really wasn’t promoting herself as a good roommate by destroying the place and killing Santana with kindness.

“No. You kept it interesting. It was nice,” Santana began, shaking her head.

She didn’t want Rachel to think she didn’t like living with her, because that wasn’t true at all. And yes, she should maybe have slipped in there that it wasn’t just the cakes, it was the mountain of baked goods in her cupboards that also messed with her normality, but the girl looked slightly downhearted by her stupid comment and she didn’t want to make her feel worse.

“And just so you know, now that I’m aware of what you do, who you are to the outside world, and all that shit, things won’t change between us. You’re still going to be Rachel Berry, my awkward, loud, sings in the shower, bakes orgasmic cakes, and speaks in paragraphs, roommate, Rachel Berry.” Rachel blushed at her description and shot Santana a thankful look.

“Thank you, Santana. That, I truly appreciate.”

“Well, you know, got to keep things sweet. Don’t want you moving out or anything.” Santana watched to see Rachel’s reaction, curious if the girl was maybe going to confess to leaving anytime soon, but Rachel just grinned at her all proud like.

“So I’ve made the cut?” She was practically buzzing, and Santana frowned, wondering how the hell she’d heard about that.

“How-“ It had to be someone at the party, someone who had the ability to spill all the details about her life, and who even knew about the cut. “Kurt.”

“Yes, Kurt,” Rachel confirmed, pleased by Santana’s friend’s willingness to share so much about her.

“Yeah, you’ve made the cut.” Santana nodded and shrugged, unsure what to say next. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, even if it was one. When she got to her room, she’d let her freakishly happy smile free, but until then she was playing it cool. “Congrats.”

“Why thank you.” Rachel beamed and Santana cursed herself.

This was either going to be the best thing she’s ever done, letting Rachel stay, or the worst. It might end up being torture, but with a smile like that and such a sweet personality to match, how could she say no?

*0*0*

 


	3. Roommate's Confession

* * *

*0*0*

Even though Rachel hadn’t been living there for the full three months, Santana was letting her sign the new roommate agreement early. Honestly, she was worried the girl would change her mind, and the sooner things were made official, the better. And because Rachel had passed all her tests and wasn’t a burden to live with, there didn’t seem to be a point of holding off until the three month mark exactly. They’d come to an understanding, and both of them wanted to keep living together, so it only made sense.

Once the ink was dry and Rachel had released Santana from her tight hug, Santana found herself calling up Kurt and asking a favour. It felt like the apocalypse, especially on Kurt’s end of the phone, but an hour later, after Rachel had gone to rehearsal, Kurt waltzed into the apartment with a bag in each hand.

“I have to say, receiving your call was the weirdest thing that’s happened,” he declared, still looking shocked.

“Did you find something?” Santana asked expectantly.

“I actually had a better idea. Seeing as you wanted to give her a welcoming gift, which was terrifying in itself, I thought I would test you and see just how far you were willing to go for Miss Berry.” Shooting him a glare, Santana sat up a little straighter and watched him shut the door behind him.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, a feeling of dread washing over her.

“It’s quid pro quo time, Clarice,” Kurt purred, attempting his best Hannibal Lector, and failing miserably. “You’re going to bake her a cake!”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” No. No, absolutely not. This was the worst idea ever. It was not happening.

“Santana, this is a great idea!” Kurt cried, nodding at her.

“I thought I could trust you.” How foolish could she be?

“You can, so trust me when I say she’ll love this.” Kurt watched Santana shoot him a dubious look before she shook her head. He knew he had her interested, he just had to sell her the idea properly. An action like this would certainly warm Miss Berry up to her rough-around-the-edges roommate, he just knew it.

“She can’t even eat cake!”

“It’ll be vegan.” Pft, as if he would be as stupid as to forget such a fact about his icon. Really, had Santana forgotten who she was talking to?

“Really?” As much as Santana hated the idea, she was curious, and surprised that Kurt had thought about Rachel’s dietary requirements. That was kinda nice of him.

“Yes.”

“And she’ll love it?” So maybe she wanted Rachel to like it, and maybe that was tipping the scales in favour of actually doing this, but she’d never say that aloud. Unfortunately, from Kurt’s smirk, she knew he was aware of her soft spot for her roommate.

“I’m sure of it.”

“If this goes tits up, I’m kicking your ass.” It was a pathetic threat, but Santana didn’t have time to think of anything better. She was too busy trying to think of all the ways this might go wrong.

“It won’t! Trust me, I know what I’m doing. So, get up, wash your hands, and get baking!” Kurt declared, smiling proudly. He was a genius.

Grudgingly doing what he said, Santana rose from the couch and flicked her TV off. She headed into the kitchen while Kurt dropped the bags on the counter, and then began washing her hands in the sink. She couldn’t help but look at the sink in disdain, knowing that because of the previous one, this whole cake fiasco had started. And what had happened to her never baking? How had she ended up in this mess?

Still, she felt that something nice needed to be done as a thanks to Rachel for agreeing to stay. She had just given Santana financial security on her mortgage payment for the next year. That was huge, and very helpful. Doing something for the girl felt like a must, but when she had that in mind, she honestly wasn’t thinking about baking.

Turning back around to survey the kitchen, she noted Kurt had vacated the area and was next door in the living room. He had turned the TV back on and was browsing the channels, oblivious to her glare. This was not how things were meant to be going. He was meant to be helping!

“Hummel, get your arse in this kitchen now. This was your idea! We could have just bought her a vegan cake, I didn’t need to bake her one, so get up and help!” If she had to do this, so did he.

Listening to him sigh, she watched as he rolled his eyes and came back over, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t look like he was going to be any help, and now Santana regretted every calling him in the first place. When was she going to learn? Calling Kurt always ended up in disaster.

“Santana, just think about all she went to making those cakes for you. The least you could do was return the favour. Buying a cake isn’t special, but making one is.”

“Look, if it was a regular ass cake, I wouldn’t care. But have you seen the instructions? It’s like fucking rocket science.” She was glancing down at the recipe he had printed off for her, and good lord, what the fuck was up with vegan cakes? How was this edible?

“Aww sweetie if you’re too dumb to work a simple recipe, I’ll do it,” Kurt cooed, sliding up to her and scooting her over to see the recipe.

Oh, challenge accepted, Hummel.

“Get out of my kitchen,” Santana declared, waving her hand dismissively.

“But-“

“No,” she interrupted, shooting him a glare. “Go, now. Out!” She could do this, and how dare he think otherwise. She would own this cake’s ass!

“Okay, but you know where I am if you need me,” Kurt sang, practically skipping back out towards the living room. He dove onto the sofa and immediately set about putting on something decent to occupy his time. If Santana was going to be burning down the kitchen, the least he could do was be nearby when it happened.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Santana was slumped over the counter, reading the recipe once more. She had never heard of half the crap on her list and seriously wondered if Kurt had given her the hardest recipe possible. Did she even have these items in her cupboards?

“Kurt, where the hell do I get-“

“I bought everything for you, it’s in the bags!” he called back, unfazed by the interruption. It would be the first of many, he was sure.

Looking round in confusion, Santana finally found said bags and began clearing out the contents along the countertops. Clearly, Hummel thought she would avoid baking it if she didn’t have the ingredients, and grumbling to herself, Santana knew him to be right. Though, really, why couldn’t she go and buy Rachel a vegan cake? Wouldn’t that be much safer?

Whatever, it was too late now, she had committed, and she was going to give this her best shot. If Rachel had gone to all that effort, baking her cakes, cookies, gingerbread men, muffins and everything else, then she could surely make one cake in return.

Crossing her fingers and saying a silent prayer, she hoped it wasn’t going to be an utter fiasco.

*0*0*

Santana couldn’t help but pace the apartment, waiting for Rachel to come home. She really should have been in bed, as she had shit loads to do the next day, but she kinda wanted to see her roommate’s reaction to her surprise.

It wasn’t that she was worried. Pft. Santana Lopez did not worry about inconsequential things such as a baked cake, but she was curious…intrigued…nervous… _worried_ about how Rachel would react and what it would taste like. It may have looked awesome, if she did say so, but it could have tasted like shit and she was not going to test it first.

One thing needed to be established, this was not a new thing they’d be doing every week. Santana was not going to bake a cake for Rachel every time something happened, and she wanted to make sure Rachel knew that she was not to bake a cake in thanks. Knowing the girl like she did, if she didn’t stay up to make sure that didn’t happen, there would be a fucking bakery on her counters tomorrow. It was sweet, but not necessary. Rachel needed to know that.

They were the excuses she was giving herself, anyway, as she paced back and forth, non-alcoholic beer in hand. Every so often, she’d glance up at the clock in the kitchen and sigh. The longer she had to wait, the worse her resolve was. Maybe Rachel would think it was creepy, or maybe she’d be exhausted and want to go to bed. Maybe the whole idea was just one big colossal train wreck.

Keys rustling in the lock had Santana freezing in place. Now that Rachel was actually coming in, she wanted to sprint back to her bedroom and pretend nothing was going on. Before she could flee to safety, Rachel had already spotted her and was practically beaming in glee.

“You waited up for me.” It wasn’t a question, and Santana stood awkwardly, unsure what to say. Yeah, she had, but that sounded lame, desperate, pitiful. Rachel didn’t seem fazed by it, and draped her coat over the arm of the couch before kicking her shoes off and tugging Santana to sit down next to her. “How was your night?”

“Okay, I guess. I just did some work.” Rubbing the back of her neck and licking her lips, Santana didn’t know what else to say or do. She felt like a teenager out on their first date, fumbling for conversation and eye contact.

“You work too hard,” Rachel said, her smile softening.

“Says the woman coming in after midnight looking exhausted.” Rachel shook her head, but Santana could see the fatigue in her eyes and posture.  “I should let you go to bed.” Now she really did feel like an idiot for ever thinking this was such a good idea. She should have run to her room when she had the chance.

“Santana, was there a reason you waited up for me?”

“No.” Okay, she really needed to stop lying to her roommate. She did that far too often.

“You want to try the truth this time?” Rachel grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, waiting patiently, and it only seemed appropriate Santana come clean. After all, once this was done, Rachel could go to bed and get some much-needed rest.

“I…I made you something.” Slipping her hand out of Rachel’s, Santana walked back towards the kitchen and picked up the metal tin lying there. She returned to the couch and pushed it towards Rachel, gently. “Here.”

“You made me something?” Surprise laced Rachel’s words, and she looked up at Santana with wide and curious eyes. Santana felt her heart pick up pace at the sight, and she licked her lips again, trying hard to avoid looking down at Rachel’s.

“Yeah…you don’t have to…I mean, open it and you’ll see.” She was fumbling over her words, and closed her eyes tight once Rachel was distracted with opening the tin. Waiting in silence, she heard Rachel take a sharp breath, and then Santana watched as her body slumped, one hand coming up to her mouth.

“You baked me a cake.” Rachel’s eyes sought Santana’s, and she had her swallowing anxiously. Was her reaction good, bad, indifferent? Santana couldn’t’ tell.

“Yeah. It might taste like shit, I don’t know, I’ve never made a vegan cake before so-“

“It’s vegan?” Rachel asked, interrupting her.

“Of course it is. Why would I make you a cake you can’t eat?” Did her roommate think she would be so insensitive to her dietary requirements?

“You baked me a vegan cake,” Rachel repeated, a small smile playing at her lips.

“Yeah, but like I was saying, it might not taste very good. You don’t even have to eat it, you can just look at it or whatever and shove it in the bin tomorrow.” Santana wouldn’t have been offended if Rachel did any of that, as she really wasn’t a very good baker at the best of times.

“No! I want to, I will eat it!” Rachel quickly cried, shaking her head, completely touched by her roommate’s gesture. Of course, she was going to eat it. It was such a nice thing for her to do, and it was most definitely going to be eaten.

“You don’t have to,” Santana mumbled, shrugging. She couldn’t help but worrying about it tasting like crap.

“I want to, honestly.” If Rachel hadn’t been so exhausted, she would have cut a piece then and there and had some. It would have to wait until tomorrow. “Gosh, this was so sweet of you.”

“Well, I just wanted to show my thanks for you moving in with me. It’s nice having you around, and I figured I’d take a page out of your book by baking you a cake.” Santana shot Rachel a teasing smile, and Rachel shook her head with a laugh.

“You’re too good to me,” she added, honestly taken aback. This was the last thing she had expected, especially after hearing from Kurt that Santana wasn’t known for being the nicest, and most helpful and tolerant person around. Really, she couldn’t understand where he got his opinion of the girl, because as far as Rachel could see, she was sweet, kind, and very understanding about all of Rachel’s little hang ups.

“Don’t talk crap,” Santana mumbled, knowing she definitely wasn’t too good to the girl. If anything, she was a nightmare to live with and probably should be doing more to make up for that fact.

“You are. But, thank you, Santana. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“It’s just a cake.”

“It’s never just cake.” God, that sounded familiar.

Placing the tin on the coffee table, Rachel leant over and placed her hand on Santana’s right cheek before kissing her left. Santana sat frozen, her breath caught in her throat and her heart beating wildly in her chest. Rachel’s lips, slightly damp and exceedingly soft, stayed there for a second longer than necessary, before she pulled back.

“Night, Santana,” she whispered, rising to her feet.

“Night, Rach.” Watching at the other girl left, Santana remained sitting. She was sure she couldn’t move. It may have just been a kiss on the cheek, but Christ, that simple action had adrenaline coursing through her veins and had her body feeling alive.

Oh, it was definitely going to be torture to live with the girl if she began doing things like that. Maybe it would be bittersweet, though. Santana could only hope.

*0*0*

The next night, Rachel didn’t have a show, and was perched on the end of the couch waiting for Santana to come home. She had tasted Santana’s cake earlier, and it was delicious. For a girl that didn’t bake, she was damn good at it, and that fact made Rachel feel even worse.

It was finally time to have the one conversation she had hoped would never need to happen, and unbeknownst to Santana, that needed to take place that evening. Rachel just couldn’t stand another night with that guilt on her conscience.

Santana had been working late, and it was well after eleven when she arrived home. The first thing she wanted to do was crawl into bed, but when she came in and saw Rachel, she knew that wasn’t going to happen, not that she minded.

She shot Rachel a smile after closing the door, which went unreturned. Instead, Rachel ducked her head and looked ashamed. That had Santana frowning, and she didn’t know what was going on.

After getting changed into boy-shorts and one of her sleep shirts, Santana came back into the living room, and stood, waiting. She knew Rachel had something to say, everything had been built up to her telling her something, so now she just had to wait for her to pluck up the courage and begin. It could have been anything, and with the silence dragging on, Santana started frantically thinking about what was going on.

“Okay, I need to confess something,” Rachel said, her eyes flittering up to Santana’s. Santana remained stoic and awaited what was coming next.

Maybe Rachel was going to say she couldn’t stay there, or maybe she was going to confess to breaking something. That really wouldn’t be that surprising. It had been too long since Rachel had broken anything. Maybe she had pulled one of the curtains down or something. Worse, maybe she broke the Xbox. God, whatever it was, Santana was barely holding her composure. She wanted to get up and quickly scan the apartment for what the wreck Rachel had left in her wake.

“I’m listening.”

“You see, I never meant it to get this far without telling you. I meant to, right after I broke the lamp, I wanted to, I really did want to tell you, but it snowballed. I couldn’t do it.” This was sounding far too ominous for Santana’s liking. Her Xbox must been fine because she played it yesterday, but Rachel had mentioned the lamp.

Had she broken it on purpose? Was that what she was coming clean about? Geez, Santana loved that lamp. Could she continue to live with someone who broke her favourite lamp on purpose? Hell, she had even protected that lamp from various mishaps with Brittany and from Kurt’s evil clutches, and here Rachel was confessing that she broke it on purpose. Could such a sin be forgiven?

“Rachel, just tell me,” Santana said, wanting to push the conversation along before Rachel dove off into paragraph upon paragraph of how sorry she was without actually explaining what she was apologising for.

“Right, yes. Of course. Forgive me, I just feel that I’ve violated your trust and this is absolutely no way for a roommate to behave.”

“Did you-“ Santana wasn’t quite sure how to proceed but ploughed ahead, knowing she needed to ask point blank. “Did you destroy my lamp on purpose?” It was almost a whisper, and Rachel froze at the question.

She dropped her eyes to the coffee table, stunned, and stared at it a moment, processing what she’d just been asked and how that had anything to do with the current conversation, before frowning. Why had Santana asked that? Did she think Rachel had done it on purpose?

“What? No, of course I didn’t break your lamp on purpose. Do you really think I’d do that?” She was shocked by such an accusation.

“Well, everyone hates that lamp, and you smashed it to smithereens,” Santana explained, holding back a pout. God, she missed that lamp.

“I fell into it, headfirst! Honestly, Santana, I couldn’t have done this if I tried. One moment I was leaning against that wall and the next I’ve face planted the lamp shade, falling into the table and taking the whole lot down. It shattered under my weight. I even broke your table!” Rachel was pointing wildly, and quickly slapped her hands to her mouth when she realised what she’d said.

“You broke my table?!” Santana’s eyes widened and she quickly began looking at all the tables in the room.

“Crap. I didn’t mean to tell you that. I fixed it, I promise.”

“How did it break?” Santana had been standing still too long and was off, heading straight for the table that used to house her favourite lamp. Getting on her knees, she began inspecting it, and struggled to see how it had broken.

“The legs snapped off. I glued them back on,” Rachel admitted, shamefully bowing her head.

“Glued them back on?”

“Yeah, I tried to glue the lamp back together, but I just couldn’t do it. There were too many pieces!” It had been a catastrophe for Rachel, and she felt like such a failure when she couldn’t put it back together after her fall.

“You did all this while drunk?” Santana tried hard not to sound impressed, but was failing slightly.

“I’m a very smart drunk, I’ll have you know!”

“Smart enough to face plant a table and lamp, and break both,” Santana muttered, shaking her head.

“Okay, I may not be able to walk in straight lines but I am an ingenious drunk. I swear, my intelligence improves greatly. I will show you sometime.”

“You’ve just confessed to breaking my table and then covering it up and you trust me enough to get drunk with me around?”

“I didn’t mean to confess that, it slipped out!” Rachel cried, frowning at her roommate. This whole conversation was not going the way she hoped it would.

“So wait, you weren’t working up to that?”

“No, of course not.” Pft, as if Rachel was going to come clean about the table. She had managed to hide the fact it had been glued back together for a month, why would she suddenly confess to breaking it?

“So what else have you been hiding? Or rather, what else have you broken?” Santana asked, crossing her arms over her chest and looking round unimpressed. Rachel didn’t look too pleased with her words either, and crossed her arms, too.

“I resent that very much, Santana. Look, I replaced most of the things I broke, and you were none the wiser. Is that really so bad?” She was hoping this wasn’t going to impact their relationship or cause Santana to kick her out.

“I want a list of everything you’ve broken, what you replaced and what you didn’t. Gots me?” Santana demanded, her no nonsense tone out in full force.

“Got you.” Rachel could only sit and nod.

Sighing, Santana ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. She really couldn’t believe what she had heard so far. She was all for keeping secrets, but really, was Rachel on a mission to single-handedly break everything in the apartment?

“You think you know the person you live with and then you find out they’ve been destroying your furniture,” she muttered, still completely dumbfounded.

“Not on purpose, never on purpose. I’m clumsy!” Rachel called out in defence, pouting.

“How are you so good on stage if you’re clumsy?”

“My characters aren’t clumsy, they’re movements are precise and I repeat them day after day. This is a new environment for me.”

“You’ve lived here close to three months. When was the last time you broke something?”

“Yesterday,” Rachel mumbled, looking down at her lap.

“What did you break yesterday?” Had Santana seen anything broken? Was it something big? She really needed to start paying better attention to what was going on.

“I smashed that photo frame,” Rachel replied, pointing at the one on the end of the mantelpiece. It was a picture of Santana, Kurt, Warbler and Brittany at some crappy diner they used to eat at during college. The four of them were smiling like dumbasses, with books sprawled out on the table before them.

Santana picked it up and inspected it, finally noticing that there was no glass in the frame, and on the back she could just make out the glue that had been used to put it back together again. Rachel had really done a number on it.

“How did you break this?”

“I was dancing _non te offee able_ ,” Rachel replied, whispering the last part under her breath.

“You were dancing…and what was the rest of that sentence?”

“I was dancing on the coffee table.”

“Why were you dancing on the coffee table?” Good lord, what was her roommate up to when she was out? Did she need to start installing cameras to make sure nothing untoward was going on when she wasn’t around?

“Are you seriously telling me you’ve never danced on this coffee table? Santana, it’s the perfect kind of table to dance on. For starters, it’s huge, very thick and pure hard wood-“

“I don’t know if this whole thing is a euphemism or not. Get to the point.”

“Huh? Oh.” Blushing, Rachel shook her head. “I was dancing on the coffee table, and I may have been using the remote as a microphone. It swung out my hand and took the picture out.”

“Okay. New rule, you’re not allowed to dance on the coffee table. Another new rule, you’re not allowed to use household objects as microphones. Oh, and one more for good measure, any high energy activity has to take place in your bedroom from now on,” Santana said, counting on her fingers and shaking her head.

“Does that include sex?” Rachel asked, sitting up straighter, but her words were ignored as Santana ploughed onwards.

“I mean, you broke the sink doing some yoga dance thing you never quite explained fully. Completely a high-energy activity. Being drunk is a high-energy activity so no explanation needed there. Singing and dancing on the coffee table is totally a high-energy activity. You doing high-energy activities just breaks my furniture, so we’re putting a stop to it. All high-energy activities must take place in your bedroom.”

“Santana?”

“What?” Turning to look at her, Santana raised her eyebrows in question.

“You never answered my question,” Rachel explained, a smile playing on her lips.

“What was it?” Whatever it was, Santana knew she wasn’t going to like it. Rachel looked like the cat that ate the canary, and while that look was ridiculously good on her, she didn’t want to be seeing it right then.

“Does that include sex?”

“Sex? Sex is a high energy activity, unless you’re doing it wrong. Of course that includes sex.” What kind of question was that? Why did she need to know? “Why? Did you break something else while having sex? Because if you did we really need to discuss what’s appropriate.”

Rachel rolled her eyes and shook her head. How could Santana stand there and talk to her about what’s appropriate?

“No. I didn’t break anything having sex. I haven’t…I mean, not while I’ve lived here. But anyway. Does sex count as a high energy activity?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then the rule applies to you, too.” Rachel grinned as Santana frowned, and she suddenly felt trapped. What the hell did the other girl know?

“What? What are you talking about?” she asked, feeling uneasy.

“You had sex on the coffee table three weeks ago,” Rachel said, patting the table to reaffirm her point. Santana immediately felt the colour drain from her face.

“How do you know that?” she whispered, scared to speak any louder, as if this was a secret that should not be spoken of.

“Your girl was a bit of a screamer. Kind of sounded like she was faking,” Rachel explained, inspecting her nails with a smirk.

“She was not faking.” Pft, Rachel could say whatever she wanted about her being inappropriate but no way was she allowed to question Santana’s sexual prowess.

“Anyway, she woke me up with her dramatic and over-eager noises.”

“She was not faking.”

“Of course she wasn’t,” Rachel chimed, her voice sickly sweet.

“She wasn’t. And what were you doing home at that time? You were meant to be on stage.” Santana certainly wouldn’t have brought someone back had she realised her roommate was in.

“My understudy’s uncle was in town. I took the night off so he could see her perform.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that?” A heads up would have been nice. Good lord, that would have been one awkward night if Rachel had been up when Santana had arrived home.

“I didn’t think it was necessary…not until I heard whatever her name was screaming for God.”

“She wasn’t faking,” Santana growled.

“If you say so.”

“I do, I do say so.”

“Either way, sex is a high energy activity, so you need to do that in your bedroom from now on.” Rachel really wasn’t bothered about the sex, and actually, that night had helped her, confirming her suspicions. She hadn’t been sure, but after the girl on the coffee table, it turned out that, yes, her roommate was indeed into the ladies. At least she had a shot, then.

“Done, as long as you control your flailing limbs and clumsy legs,” Santana barked back, worried that she had freaked Rachel out. The last thing she wanted was the girl being scared to live with her because she was gay, and while she had never confirmed anything before, it was obvious now that she did indeed have a soft spot for the same sex.

Heading to the kitchen for a drink, an actual beer this time instead of the non-alcoholic stuff, Santana froze and turned back to Rachel. This conversation was unfinished, and they had gotten seriously off track, so what the hell was Rachel going to say to begin with?

Realising that Santana was standing staring at her again, Rachel looked round curiously. “What? What is it?”

“You were confessing something. You said you had violated my trust and you never explained how.”

“Oh. Yes.” Gosh, she had completely forgotten about that. “Yes, I was saying that, but you then accused me of breaking your lamp on purpose. How was I not to get distracted by that?”

“Rachel, how did you violate my trust?” Santana asked, too tired to beat round the bush anymore.

“Maybe you want to sit,” Rachel added, stalling for time, as she patted the seat next to her.

“No.”

“Alright then. After I broke the sink, or rather, after the plumber had been and I’d cleaned the place up, I knew I had to make it up to you. I had only been living here, what, three weeks? Three weeks and I broke your $800 sink, and almost flooded your kitchen. You could easily have kicked me out after that, and I didn’t want to move out because you treat me like everyone else.”

“The point of this conversation would be greatly appreciated right about now.” Santana couldn’t handle the suspense and she just needed to know what the hell was going on.

“Yes, yes, of course. So I wondered how I could make it up to you, and I invited Tina round. You met her, the Asian girl? Tina Cohen-Chang? Anyway, she was sure you would kick me out but mentioned something about sweetening you up, and this led to the idea of baking a cake for you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, you know I’m vegan, and I really can’t stand cracking eggs, or using milk from enslaved-“

“Rachel.”

“Right, yes. Getting to the point, I promise.” Rachel could save that discussion for another time, she was sure. Santana had actually been graceful enough to sit through it three times already, and didn’t mind when she turned her nose up at her use of dairy products, so maybe she could lay off her for a change.

“Basically, I couldn’t bake you a cake. I can’t even be in the same room as you when you crack your eggs for your Sunday breakfast, so how was I to crack them myself? I couldn’t do it, and I couldn’t work with the recipe once it was done. I get nightmares of chickens attacking me every time I crack an egg. I swear they’re going to know the crimes I’ve committed against their young and will peck me to death. It’s horribly frightening. My therapist says it’s-“ Seeing Santana’s unimpressed look, Rachel ploughed on.

“We’re way off topic, my bad. I couldn’t bake the cake for you, so I made Tina do it. She’s been baking you all the cakes, not me. I did the icing, if that means anything, but I couldn’t bake them. It was too distressing. I usually would watch America’s Next Top Model reruns while Tina cooked. There’s just something about watching Tara kick the girls out every week that I find oddly satisfying, and again, completely off topic. I’m sorry that I lied to you. I’m sorry that I said I baked you a cake when I didn’t. However, I did make the ‘I’m sorry’ cookies. That was all me. The rest…well, there’s a bakery two blocks from the theatre and the manager loves me. I’d place an order and he’d drop them off for me because I just didn’t have the time to bake them. But the ‘I’m sorry’ cookies, I did bake them. Everything else has been a heinous lie, and I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t keep this to myself anymore, not after you went to all that trouble to bake me such a beautiful cake. I am terribly sorry, Santana, and I hope you can forgive me. I even baked you cookies in preparation.”

Rachel reached under the coffee table and pulled out a metal tin before trying to hand it to Santana. From her blank look, Rachel pouted and placed it on the table instead, feeling even worse with herself. She never should have gotten herself into this mess. She should have come clean months ago.

Sighing loudly, Santana shook her head and grabbed the nearest pillow, thumping Rachel soundly with it three times.

“Seriously, Berry? That’s your confession? I thought you’d been stealing from me, or wearing my underwear and then putting it back in my drawer or something equally creepy.”

“Eww, I’d never do that!” Rachel cried, shaking her head in disgust.

“How was I to know? You said you violated my trust, I was thinking the worst.”

“Apparently the worst was me breaking your gaudy lamp on purpose.”

“It was not gaudy!” Santana called, hitting Rachel with the pillow again.

“It was! Kurt was right, I did you a favour!”

“So you did do it on purpose!” Santana gasped, dropping the pillow and taking a step back in shock.

“No, of course I didn’t! I would never! But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t awful, and look now we can get a new lamp!” Rachel smiled proudly at that thought and nodded in confirmation. Buying a new lamp sounded like an awesome idea.

“We’re not buying a new lamp,” Santana grounded out, shaking her head at the thought.

“Maybe I want to buy a new lamp.”

“Then your new lamp can go in your bedroom.”

“But it’s a living room lamp,” Rachel explained, frowning.

“Well then you need to find your own living room. Mine is not having your new lamp in it.”

“You can’t do that, and this is _our_ living room.”

“No, this is my living room. My mortgage, my apartment.”

“Which you can’t pay without my rent. But fine, if that’s how things are, maybe I need to find a new place to stay, somewhere my new lamp and me can feel appreciated,” Rachel huffed, feigning disinterest.

“Why don’t you call that lady you were going to live with instead of me, the one who wanted to be best friends with you? I bet she’d let you put your lamp in her living room.” Santana grinned as Rachel’s mouth fell open in shock at her words.

“How about I shove my new lamp up your ass?” she replied.

“Wanky, but maybe you want to buy me dinner first,” Santana called back.

Walking towards her bedroom, Santana chuckled away to herself, cookies in hand, and heard Rachel huff in the living room. She was so much fun to wind up like that, and she looked adorable while doing so. Taking a bite of an ‘I’m sorry’ cookie, she wasn’t the least bit bothered by Rachel’s revelation.

Okay, maybe she was a bit concerned that her roommate liked to destroy everything, but she wasn’t bothered about the cakes, and given Rachel had come clean, she assumed they would stop. Tonight had turned out better than expected.

*0*0*

 

* * *

 


	4. The Roommate is Full of Surprises

* * *

*0*0*

A few weeks later, everything was smooth sailing, and Santana was ecstatic. The crazy baking had stopped, and Rachel only made the occasional set of cookies. It was perfect. They were living in total harmony, and nothing could go wrong.

So, of course, the universe decided to prove her wrong.

Santana had been busy working, her papers and books scattered across the coffee table, when she heard a clatter come from Rachel’s room. At first, she didn’t think anything of it as it wasn’t surprising to hear such noises. After their agreement about all high-energy activities taking place in their bedrooms, Santana had been hearing a lot more clatters and bangs.

This incident, however, turned out to be more than a simple broken mug or shattered picture frame. It sounded like more than that, but Santana was giving Rachel the benefit of the doubt and thinking she’d maybe destroyed her own lamp for a change. She shouldn’t have bothered.

“Eh, Santana?” Rachel called, her feet padding up the hallway towards her.

“Yeah?” Santana called back, not taking her eyes off the paper before her. She wanted to get everything finished by Monday, but at the rate she was going, that wasn’t going to happen.

“I think…I think I broke the sink…again,” Rachel mumbled, catching Santana’s attention immediately.

“You what?” Whipping her head round, Santana perused Rachel’s appearance and cursed. “Mother fucker. What did you do?” The girl was drenched on one side, her hair soppy and her face splashed with water droplets. It was certainly not what Santana had been expecting.

“I fell-“

“And what, ripped it off the wall?” That was the only way Santana could explain the mess before her.

“Actually, yes,” Rachel replied, wiping at the droplets running down her neck and down the front of her top.

Rising to her feet, Santana dropped her pen onto the coffee table and went to inspect the mess herself. Rachel followed behind her as she entered her bedroom and went towards the en suite. When Brittany had moved out, Santana had swapped rooms, hoping for a fresh start in the spare bedroom, which meant Rachel was given the en suite.

This was actually the first time Santana had been in Rachel’s room. Okay, she may have peeked in once or twice, just to check her roommate wasn’t hoarding cats or something, but she’d never stepped foot over the door. Knowing her luck, she’d get caught snooping about and Rachel would move out, so there was no point. Now, however, was not the time to admire the place.

“Christ, Rachel, you broke the fucking sink!” Santana cried, seeing the massacre before her. Water was gushing from the broken pipe on the wall, and the sink was lying on the floor. She now knew it was the worst idea ever to buy a sink that was free standing, and that the next one going in would most definitely not be.

“I said that!”

“You’re a hazard. A complete hazard. You destroy my sinks! You completely destroy my sinks! That’s two, two! You are now banned from being near my sinks. That’s it. You’re banned from the kitchen, and you’re banned from the bathrooms. Banned!” Santana ranted, grabbing more towels off the shelf and trying to make some kind of defence mechanism so the water couldn’t run into the bedroom.

“Santana, I didn’t mean to! I’ll fix it. I’ll pay to get it repaired,” Rachel said, helping her.

“I don’t care about the money, Rach. It’s the fact you keep destroying my sinks!”

“I never meant to. I’m sorry.” Her voice was filled with sadness, and it had Santana’s chest aching. God, she hadn’t meant to hurt the girl.

“Fucking hell, don’t look like that. Come here.” Dropping the towels to the floor, she held out her arms, and hugged Rachel tight when she stepped into them.

“I’m really sorry,” Rachel mumbled against her shirt. She burrowed her nose further in the crook of Santana’s neck and inhaled, stealthily. Good lord, her roommate smelt fantastic. Was she wearing perfume? Was that body wash? Maybe that was her natural scent. Rachel couldn’t be sure.

“It’s fine. Relax,” Santana murmured, running her hand up and down the girl’s back soothingly. She was trying to be careful about it. Too low and she’d touch the girl’s ass, too high and she’d end up stroking and playing with her hair. Really, it was a lose-lose situation all round. How was she meant to navigate such a dangerous field? And for the love of God, why was her roommate so freaking short? She fit perfectly in Santana’s arms. Was that not a sign?

“But you’re really mad.” Rachel couldn’t help but pout, and unbeknownst to her, the feel of her lips grazing against Santana’s neck almost had her moaning aloud. What was the girl doing to her?

“No, I’m just…shocked. I’m just shocked. Last time I wasn’t here when you decided to flood the apartment, so this I just a surprise, shock… complete horror,” Santana replied, giving up the fight and running her hand over Rachel’s hair. The girl’s arms tightened round her waist in response, and she could no longer be annoyed at the water soaking her feet. Whatever, it could be fixed, this was so worth it.

“I’ll call the plumber,” Rachel finally said, pulling back. Any longer and she’d start peppering Santana’s neck with kisses and suggesting another activity that could get them wet. Time to rein it in.

“Okay, you do that and I’ll try and cover the leak or something.”

With jobs to be done, both of them got to work, hoping to get the mess cleaned up as quickly as possible. However, that wasn’t looking likely as they both took a moment, hidden from the other, to think back on that hug. It had maybe been the fourth hug they’d ever shared, but it was definitely one they didn’t want to end.

Santana was convinced she was setting herself up for heartbreak, as holding her straight roommate so carefully, intimately, wasn’t something wise to do. It would only get her hurt. All the while, Rachel was convinced that if she wanted anything to happen, she’d need to step up sometime soon in case Santana decided she wasn’t worth the effort. It would be impossible for her to stay with the girl if her feelings weren’t returned.

It was only a matter of time before one of them caved.

*0*0*

Given how much Santana’s friends spoke about her and her roommate behind her back, she didn’t know why she was meeting Quinn for coffee. She knew Quinn wanted an update on Santana’s life so far, especially after that damn party at her place, but come on. Could she not just talk to Kurt? He seemed happy to tell everyone what she was up to.

Regardless, there she was, passive-aggressively stirring her coffee as the toddler at the table over sat staring at her. It was judging her, she knew it. And where the fuck was Quinn? How long did it take for someone to go to the bathroom? Did she get lost?

What had to be hours later, though was only several minutes, and after the toddler had turned into Gollum, Quinn finally came back from the bathroom. She gave Santana a perky smile as she sat down, oblivious to Santana’s bitchier of moods brewing under the surface, and took a sip of her coffee.

“How are things in the bakery?” Quinn asked, disregarding the conversation they had been having before she went to piss. Whatever.

“She broke the sink again,” Santana said, eying up the cookies on sale. They’d never be as good as Rachel’s. She really needed to start taking some with her when she went out. Maybe she could get Rachel to bake her some more when she went home. They could bake them together. Or maybe not, Santana knew how her roommate got when she had people to instruct. No way was she spending the afternoon being bossed about.

“She what?” Quinn frowned and hoped she’d heard wrong.

“She broke the sink. Ripped it right off the wall. Totally destroyed the bathroom,” Santana replied absentmindedly, still thinking about the cookies at home. She was sure Rachel had finished them off, but maybe she’d been kind and tucked the last one away for Santana. She had done that last time. Total sweetheart.

“She seems to have a habit of doing this.” Placing her coffee down, Quinn folded her arms on the table and leant forward, curious to see what Santana would say. She had been expecting her to rant and rave about this broken sink, especially since it was the second broken sink, but that didn’t look to be happening.

“She does. She really does.” Such disappointment, Quinn thought, sighing.

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean what am I going to do?” Santana asked, finally snapping out of her thoughts. What the hell was Quinn talking about? Why would Santana do anything about Rachel’s habit of breaking sinks? That could compromise their living arrangements. She didn’t want to risk that.

“Well you can’t keep living with her,” Quinn explained, rolling her eyes as if it were obvious. To Santana, it was not.

“Why not?” Frowning, she sat up straighter in her seat.

“She’s destroyed your sinks. Two of them!” What was Santana not understanding? How was this not clear? Did Quinn have to spell it out properly for her?

“Yeah, but she was really sorry about it.” That, and she’d baked ‘I’m really sorry’ cookies. Those were fucking orgasmic, and Santana had wanted to retreat to her room with the whole plate, but apparently that’s not appropriate behaviour. What the fuck did Kurt know?

“And since when does Santana Lopez care about someone being sorry? If I had done that to you, you would have kicked my ass.” Quinn had already had the misfortune of living with Santana, and she knew just how bat-shit crazy the other girl could be.

“Yeah, well you’re not my hot, wealthy roommate who cooks me food, are you?” Santana smiled wickedly, just picturing the girl herself and sighed contentedly. Fucking hell, her days were sweet.

“So you slept with her yet?” That was the big question.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Santana replied, looking disgusted. Not at the prospect of sleeping with her roommate, because fucking score, but because her friends were so interested in her sexual goings on. It was creepy.

“Maybe because you refer to her as your hot, wealthy roommate who cooks food for you. That’s practically ticking all the requirements and more to end up in bed with you.”

“Jealous, Q?”

“In your dreams, Santana.” Quinn wanted to wipe that cocky smirk right of her face, but as history has told her, starting a brawl in a public place is frowned upon. “So have you?”

“What?” Where the fuck was this conversation going? Santana felt like this was the dullest thing ever. Why couldn’t she be at home?

“Slept with her?”

“No! Geeze, I know you have money riding on this but stop asking me every chance you get. You know what, how about I send out a mass text if I ever sleep with her, that way you can all find out at the same time and sort out who won the bet.”

“You better,” Quinn warned, picking up her coffee cup for another drink.

Santana rolled her eyes and turned back to the toddler who was now eating his own fist. Right then, he looked to be a lot better company than she currently had. Why the hell had she even agreed to come? Surely she could have made up some excuse, faked being sick, lied about work commitments or some rubbish. Though, knowing Quinn, she’d just come over and hang out with Rachel.

Nope, that was not happening.

Sighing to herself, Santana looked at her watch and wondered how much longer she had to endure this before she could leave. There were cookies to be made, after all.

*0*0*

Strange things were happening in her apartment, or so Santana thought. It had started simply, a lingering glance, and it had escalated to blatant staring. She didn’t know what to do. On one hand, she was over the moon that her roommate finally noticed that, yes, she had fantastic boobs, but on the other hand, she was saddened by the thought the girl could just be admiring her bra or something.

Okay, okay, it didn’t seem like one girl just admiring another girl’s underwear choice. It definitely seemed like she was being checked out. That thought had her smiling wickedly, looking very much like the sin she was. However, with every up, there was a down, and she couldn’t help but think her roommate might have just been the curious type.

There’s always one. The girl or guy who is pretty certain they know what they like, but maybe, just maybe, on a rainy day or if the timing is right, might just adventure over and see what else there is on offer. Yeah, Santana’s met her fair share of these people, and Rachel Berry fit the bill to most extent and purposes. Not all, but most.

Santana just wasn’t sure. If her roommate was curious, she could work with that, but heaven forbid she open a can of gay panic in their apartment. That would be the last thing she needed. No, Santana needed to know, one hundred percent, that Rachel wasn’t going to flip the fuck out if she was to maybe make a move.

They had spent a lot of time together, on the night’s Santana stayed up for the girl, and she was pretty confident it wouldn’t be completely left field to suggest that maybe, Santana’s feelings weren’t unreturned. That wasn’t set in stone, though, so she didn’t want to jinx it by thinking it could be true. There was potential, however.

Santana just needed to find the right opening. She had to be classy about it all. No pressure.

Debating it for days, nights spent mulling over her thoughts rather than burning the midnight oil, had finally left Santana with a decision she could live by. She didn’t want to have regrets, not when it came to Rachel Berry, so she had to go for it.

It would be simple, nothing intimate or sexual, just something innocent. She could lay the field, do the ground work, and Rachel would be the one to decide whether or not to let the situation grow into more.

She was positive she wasn’t making things up. Rachel’s hugs were longer than they needed to be. The girl continued to kiss Santana on the cheek every time she went out. Her hand would seek out Santana’s when they’d watch TV. She’d even looked a little bit devastated when Santana had gone out all dressed up during the week. It was a work dinner, but Rachel didn’t know that, and yeah, Santana might have been trying to see how she’d react. Regardless, she seemed discouraged at first , and then the next day she was super affectionate. That meant something, it had to mean something.

Gradually Santana tried to work out some way to move their friendship forward, into the actual courtship,  as well as trying to get on with the rest of her life. There were so many options, so many things to consider, and yeah, she knew her roommate pretty well, but how would the girl like to be courted? That was the real question.

Santana just knew that Rachel would love being courted, though maybe not by her. She loved the romance and the glamour of it all, and Santana didn’t want to disappoint. The last thing she needed was to start off on the wrong foot. How she started this effect how it ended, she was sure of it.

So while she plotted and planned, ruling out carriage rides in central park, putting ‘take her to a show’ on the maybe pile, and seriously considered baking her ‘please go out with me’ cookies, Rachel remained oblivious.

What Santana hadn’t been expecting, though she should have known better when it came to Rachel Berry, was that the girl was full of surprises.

*0*0*

Standing at the exact corner Rachel had instructed her to, Santana waited for the other girl to show up. Rachel didn’t have a show on that day, so she had been running errands, and she figured since they were both out that they could meet and go home together. It was sweet, Santana thought, and she wanted to spend more time with the girl, so she had no objections.

Well, she had no objections when she had agreed to it. After waiting five minutes in the freezing cold, convinced her nipples had fallen off by now, she finally saw Rachel making her way towards her. Bundled up nice and warm looking, Rachel gave Santana a beaming smile as she came to stand next to her.

“Sorry I’m late, this lady at the store recognised me and we started chatting. She saw me in my very first Broadway show, ever! It was amazing to reminisce about the old days, but forgive me, I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“Tis okay,” Santana said, shrugging. How could she say it wasn’t? Rachel was practically bouncing on the spot in excitement.

“Well, thank you for being patient and waiting on me. I know how much you hate waiting,” she said it with a gleam in her eye, and Santana couldn’t help but think she’d been talking to Kurt again. God only knows that man knew how much she hated waiting on people.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. Come on then!” Rachel entwined her gloved fingers with Santana’s cold bare ones and began to lead her along the street.

They walked another block or so, hand in hand, before Santana started frowning. She had been under the impression they were going home together, and right then, she just wanted to curl up on her couch with a beer in hand and laze the night away.

“Wait, Rach, home is that way,” Santana said, pointing in the other direction. “Where are we going?”

“I’m buying you dinner.” And just like that, Santana’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Why was Rachel buying her dinner? What had she done?

Thinking back to a conversation they had a few weeks ago, Santana stopped abruptly in the street, just narrowly missing being hit by someone walking behind them. The man grunted at them, but Santana didn’t care. Snix would have taken care of him if he’d started something, but her brain was too preoccupied with what Rachel had said.

She was praying, begging, pleading for her to be wrong. She had been wondering what weird thing or habit Rachel had, and she seriously hoped this was not it. She could work with most hang-ups, but not this one.

“Wait- I know I said that you could shove your new living room lamp up my ass if you bought me dinner first, but that was a joke and I’m really not into that. There’s no way you’re shoving a lamp up my ass later on tonight, if that’s what you’re thinking dinner will get you.”

“Oh my gosh, Santana that’s not why I’m buying you dinner!” Rachel cried, looking horrified at the thought. Looking round scandalously, making sure no one had heard them, Rachel tightened her hold on Santana’s hand and pulled her to the side of the street and out of the way of those walking around them.

Santana was still looking slightly dubious about it, and wasn’t quite convinced that Rachel hadn’t been planning that. Why else would the girl be buying her dinner? It just didn’t make sense.

 “So if you’re not trying to do that, why are you buying me dinner?” she finally asked, hoping Rachel would be honest with her.

“Can’t a girl just buy someone dinner without ulterior motives?” Rachel replied, licking her lips and swallowing.

“A girl can, yes. You, no.” Shaking her head, Santana took her hand back and crossed her arms. She was too cold, they really should have been having this conversation inside somewhere.

“What’s that meant to mean?” Rachel frowned in confusion and mild offence.

“You broke my sink, you made your friend bake me a cake. You broke my favourite lamp and my table, so you made your friend bake me a cake, again. You apologised for making those cakes by baking me ‘I’m sorry’ cookies and by buying me half a freaking bakery. You baked me ‘I’m sorry’ cookies, again, for lying to me. You-“

Santana had begun counting on her fingers with each item she listed, and the more she did so, the pinker the hue in Rachel’s cheeks became. At first, it could have been mistaken just from it being blistery outside, but nope, she was definitely blushing.

“Okay, I get it. I apologise by giving you things. But really, I do not want to do that with a lamp, and I haven’t broken anything.” Rachel was almost pleading with her to believe what she was saying, and Santana was slowly warming up to one. Okay, maybe Rachel didn’t want to shove a lamp up her ass. That’s good. She could work with that.

“Are you sure you haven’t broken anything, though? I mean, if we go home right now and look, I’m not going to find a single broken thing?” Really, that was the main issue. Rachel’s history worked against her.

Looking at the other girl expectantly, Santana waited and slowly watched as Rachel bit her lip and scrunched up her eyes in defeat.

“Alright, okay, there might be something, but I’m not buying you dinner because I broke something.” Of course not.

Biting back a sigh, Santana’s gaze hardened and she decided to just bite the bullet and find out what the damage was.

“What did you break?”

“Does it really matter?” Rachel asked, hoping to move on from this entire conversation.

“Yes.” It definitely mattered, Santana’s place could have been in ruins for all she knew. Clearly, she had been lenient on the ground rules. That was one mistake she was not going to make again.

“I pulled the curtain down in the living room,” Rachel said quickly, trying to rush it out.

“Oh good lord.”

“I slipped and grabbed it for support. Fat lot of good that did me, but I’m sorry. I’ll fix it. I can sew the tear-“

“The tear? You never said it was torn.” Her beautiful curtains! The fabric she had picked especially to match her living room, torn! What the hell was going on? How the fuck had Rachel fallen near them? What did she trip over, air?

“Well, yes, it ripped in half. Poor manufacturing if you ask me. But you didn’t, so ignore me. I’ll fix it.” Rachel was pointing wildly, and it would have been cute any other occasion.

“Are you sure you aren’t buying me dinner because you shredded the curtain?” Santana asked, shaking her head in defeat. What could she do with this girl? She was a force to be reckoned with, and if Santana wanted to keep living with her, she just knew she’d have to learn to accept that household objects do not get on well with one Rachel Berry.

“I did not _shred_ the curtain, and yes I’m sure. I’m buying you dinner because I, well, I was hoping that…” Rachel stopped short and looked away, piquing Santana’s interest.

“You were hoping what? Come on, Rach, you’re never one to end a sentence short. What were you going to say?” The fact that her roommate, a woman of many words, had stopped midsentence was sending alarm bells ringing.

Watching curiously, Santana saw how Rachel took a deep breath and stood up taller. Well, as much as she could given her short stature. Anyway, Rachel licked her lips, closed her eyes and gave herself a moment before opening them and looking at Santana. She looked determined, single-minded and it actually was pretty hot to watch.

“I was hoping that this could maybe be a date. I’m asking you on a date,” Rachel said resolutely, leaving no wiggle room for interpretation. It was crystal clear, and it had Santana spluttering and coughing as she choked on her breath.

“A date?” This had to be some twisted dream. She had not just spent weeks trying to work up the courage to ask Rachel out only to have her do it first. No way.

“Yes, a date.”

“Did you…you didn’t just break the curtain, did you?” Santana whispered, leaning into the other girl.

“Oh come on, I’m being serious here! Please, Santana, will you go on a date with me this evening?” Rachel looked very unimpressed with her, and she suddenly felt guilty. That had been rude, she should have known better.

“Yeah, okay,” she replied, trying not to annoy Rachel any more than she might have already done. She didn’t want her taking her offer back. That would be mortifying, and seriously awkward come tomorrow.

“You don’t sound enthused,” Rachel said, pouting. She had hoped Santana would have been excited, but instead, she looked like she’d had her hand forced.

“Yes, Rachel, I would love to go on a date with you this evening!” Santana cried excitedly, completely over the top, rolling her eyes afterwards. She’s said yes, what more did Rachel want?

Truth be told, she was giddy inside, but that shit was to be unleashed in the privacy of her own room where she could do a happy dance and rock out in peace. She could not do that in public, even though, she was sure Rachel would join in with her.

“Stop being a smart ass. Do you really want to go? You can say no.”

“Hey, I want to. Alright? I do. So, let’s go,” she said softly, unable to stop herself from cupping Rachel’s cheek in her hand, her forehead leaning against hers. How she had gotten that close so suddenly, she didn’t know, but she was not complaining.

“Good, thank you. I very much appreciate you letting me take you out and buy you dinner,” Rachel answered, a small smile playing on her lips. It had Santana entranced, and she really wanted to just lean a little closer and kiss her. One thing was niggling at the back of her mind, though, and she needed to check.

“Just to be sure, though, you’ve not bought a new lamp, right?” Rachel winced and bit her bottom lip at her question.

“Actually, I have, but we’re not going to use it for that. It’s going in the living room instead.” Pulling back, Santana chuckled in relief and then frowned and shook her head.

“No it’s not.” No way was she having Rachel’s new lamp in her living room. That was not happening.

Smiling wickedly, Rachel took Santana’s hand once more and tugged her to get her moving again.

“I’ll convince you over dinner, come on,” she said, grinning happily, and God, Santana could already feel her resolve weakening.

Thirty minutes later, after repeating the words ‘we’ll see’ at least a dozen times, Santana finally managed to get Rachel to talk about something other than how magnificent this lamp was going to look and how it matched the furniture perfectly.

Despite rolling her eyes countless times, she was actually enjoying the other girl’s enthusiasm, and she was elated that she was in fact on a date with Rachel Berry. Just like she had planned out, Rachel had done the same. There was no pressure, no expectations, and really, if Santana had wanted it to be, she could have made this out to be just two roommates having dinner together.

She didn’t want it to be like that, however. She definitely wanted to call this what it was, a date, and at times the mere thought of that had her grinning happily over her pasta. Rachel never questioned it, and instead, Santana caught her having her own little happy moment to herself behind her napkin. Of course, the actress of the two of them was a lot better at hiding her giddy moments, but whatever. It was cute to see, and sitting there chatting with Rachel like she did ever other night just made things that much better.

It was a date, but it was so casual, so easy and so simple that Santana knew the next one would be just as fantastic. And there would be a next one.

Clearly, Rachel hadn’t been admiring her bra all those mornings she caught her staring, which meant it was on. Rachel Berry was interested in her, if this date was any indication, and now that Santana had the green light, she was going to court the girl properly.

Damn right.

*0*0*

The next morning, Santana walked out her room in a daze, rubbing bleary her eyes from the light. She padded her way to the kitchen, started up the coffee machine, and turned to see what state she’d left her work stuff in, knowing she maybe had thirty minutes to shower, get dried and dressed, collect it all, and get out the door.

The first thing that caught her eye, however, was the platter of cookies on the worktop. Moving closer to inspect them better, Santana smiled at the words iced on several of them. Altogether, it said ‘thanks for going on a date with me!’ and then there were gold stars on the rest. Her roommate was so goddamn adorable.

The second thing that caught her eye, and had her eyebrow quirking, was the new lamp sitting exactly where her gaudy one used to be. It was simple in design, nothing special, and it actually blended in rather well with the rest of the furniture. Santana was never going to tell Rachel that, though. Still, there it sat, now a constant reminder of what she’d lost, and Santana grumbled under her breath.

Reaching for a cookie almost instinctively, Santana took a bite and as the rich taste exploded on her taste buds, she realised that if Rachel kept making cookies like that, then she’d stop caring about the damn lamp anymore.

Turning back to the coffee machine, Santana grabbed a mug from the cupboard and set about making her coffee. When she went to the fridge for the milk, she paused and read the note stuck on the door.

_Your curtains could not be saved, and for that, I am sorry. However, do you know what this means? We can get new ones! I’m out with Kurt this morning, the early bird catches the worm after all, and we’re looking at patterns. I’ll show you the options tonight when I get back from my show. I’m so excited about this! Our apartment is going to look awesome when we’re done redecorating! Rachel Berry x_

She had even tacked on a gold star sticker at the end, and Santana groaned, spinning back to see her curtains still in place. One was up, looking dapper as always, but the other was lying in a heap on the floor.

If Rachel had convinced Santana to let her put her lamp in the living room on the first date, what the hell was she going to convince Santana of on the second? And when the hell had the decision been made to redecorate the apartment?

It was official, Santana had lost all control, and it was now in the hands of her crazy adorable, and slightly manipulative, roommate.

God help her.

*0*0*


	5. The Drunken Roommate

* * *

*0*0*

Rachel’s idea to redecorate the apartment was Santana’s worst nightmare, but she went along with it like any tolerant roommate would. Thankfully, the only thing being changed, so far, was the curtains that had met their untimely doom. Rachel had somehow teamed up with Kurt, and the two of them were going through fabric books, colour charts and everything in between to find the perfect replacement curtains.

Santana had managed to keep out of it, mostly. Occasionally, Rachel would corner her with a swatch of fabric she wanted her to feel, which didn’t sound creepy at all, and then once her opinion of ‘fuck no’ was given, Rachel would move on.

That’s how the last week had been going, and no decision had been made. While Santana had anticipated worse from this situation, she knew not to get ahead of herself, because the second she let her guard down, they’d strike with wallpaper strips, paint colours, new tiles for the bathroom, carpet designs and God only knows what else.

It was a waiting game, a ticking time bomb, and every day Santana eyed her roommate a little closer just to make sure today was not the day it went off.

Unfortunately, over breakfast that morning, she saw it. On Rachel’s lips, whilst she danced about the kitchen making herself breakfast, Santana saw the hint of a satisfied smile. Given that no one had joined her roommate in bed last night, she could only come to the assumption that once breakfast was over, she was going to endure hell.

She was correct.

Her Saturday morning, which she had hoped to spend curled up on the couch killing some dragons and dominating Skyrim, had been hijacked. She only went to the bedroom to get some socks, she was hardly a minute, at most. But when she returned, Rachel was sitting on the couch with a scary smile in place, and the coffee table was drowning in patterns and fabrics.

“No!” Santana cried immediately, waving her hands and shaking her head. “Whatever it is you’re about to do, no. This is not how I’m spending my morning.”

“But, Santana, we need to make a decision!” Rachel whined, slapping her hands against her knees. “How can we get new curtains if you won’t even take the time to look at the options!”

“Yes, well the people of Skyrim need me too, Rachel. They’re being attacked by dragons, that’s a little more important than what curtains we pick. And I so do look at the options! I looked at one of your options last night, at four freaking a.m. when I went to piss! And FYI, you might want to wait until after I’ve peed before jumping out like that, cause God only knows, I will murder you if you make me piss myself.”

“Okay, I admit, my timing wasn’t right but I needed an answer!”

“And you thought four in the morning was the right time to get it?!” Santana cried, incredulously. What was up with her roommate?

“I never see you!” Rachel replied, practically pouting. She loved Broadway, and she loved her work, but sometimes she wanted to spend an evening in, having dinner with Santana, hanging out with her, and just spending some time with the girl.

“We work!” Santana didn’t like their work schedules either, as they hardly ever saw one another, but there was nothing she could do about it.

“I know we do!” As if realising they were both yelling, Rachel frowned and shook her head. “I just want to replace what I broke, and make sure it’s something you like, too.”

Her reasoning was pretty solid, and Santana rolled her eyes, knowing she was going to give in anyway. Really, the sooner she dealt with this, the sooner she could get on with her morning like planned. Rachel saw Santana’s shoulders drop in defeat and hid her smirk, because if Santana caught sight of that, she was pretty sure she’d set the fabric samples on fire and kick Rachel out.

Taking a seat, Santana slouched back on the couch as Rachel dove off into the details of how the curtains were meant to look. Apparently, they were encompassing themes and vibes into their apartment now, because simple curtains just didn’t _speak_ to her roommate. If she wasn’t certain she was living with a crazy before, Santana was sure of it then.

Pattern after pattern, design after design, Santana sat there and took it all. She was pretty sure Rachel hadn’t taken a breath since she’d started speaking, and she was one hundred percent positive that she wanted to stab herself in the face with the pen Rachel was using to write with. Any injury to escape.

Eventually, Rachel started narrowing down the choices with the help of Santana’s humming and hawing. Only once three fabric designs were narrowed down did Santana realise she’d made a grave mistake. She didn’t like any of them. They weren’t fucking ghastly, like the last selection she’d just vetoed, but they weren’t exactly pretty. She could live with them if she _had_ to, but she didn’t _want_ to.

Suddenly, an idea struck her, and Santana smirked, unable to help herself. Getting her idea to work was another thing altogether, but she was pretty confident that she could pull it off. Rachel wanted these damn curtains, after all. And really, sooner or later Santana would be desensitized from their heinousness that she wouldn’t even bother with them. But maybe she could work a way to get what she wanted in regards to the curtains as well. Hmm.

“Okay, let’s make a deal,” she said, inspecting her nails.

“A deal?” Rachel shot her a dubious look, unsure where this was going, and waited.

“Yes, a deal,” Santana repeated, sitting up a little straighter. She had hoped Rachel wasn’t going to ask too many questions but that was clearly not going to happen. She now needed to be on her A game.

“What kind of deal?” Rachel cocked her eyebrow in question and waited on more. She was already feeling a little anxious about it, as Santana clearly had an ulterior motive. She could practically sense that whatever deal was about to be made was not going to work in her favour. Yes, Santana was offering her the curtains, or she suspected she would be, but what would Rachel have to give up in return?

“The one where we both get what we want,” Santana said, watching as Rachel ran her hand through her hair and then let it travel down her body. She furrowed her brow at that and swallowed, throwing away all lustrous thoughts that had sprung to mind, and tried to carry on.

“Oh?”  Rachel asked, now playing dirty.

Noting much had changed since their date, but Rachel was confident that would change some time soon. However, she was fully aware that her roommate admired her figure on occasion, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to bewitch Santana into forgetting what she was saying. Rachel didn’t want to lose out on the curtains, she didn’t want to make a deal, she want Santana to agree with her choice and then let her get on with it. That was not happening, however.

“Yeah…” Santana murmured, her eyes glued on the sudden amount of skin that seemed to be on show. She wasn’t sure how Rachel did it, but the top three buttons of her shirt magically opened, and it was like fucking wonderland in there.

“And what are you proposing?” Good lord, her roommate was trying to distract her with her feminine wiles so that she forgot all about this deal. That was the only explanation Santana had for the sudden amount of cleavage that was in her eye line.

“The curtains…” she murmured again, unable to stop her eyes from drifting. Stupid fucking low cut tops and magical buttons!

“What about the curtains? Do you like them? Shall we just agree on them and move on?” Rachel asked, her voice low and husky. She was sure Santana was about to cave.

“No.”

“No?”

“Holy Christ, stop that!” Getting up off the couch, Santana paced the apartment, shaking all the licentious thoughts from her mind. Rachel was chuckling and biting her lip, clearly enjoying Santana’s inner turmoil.

There hadn’t even been a second date, Santana could not sleep with her yet. No. No way. Despite every cell in her body saying go over there and kiss the hell out of Rachel, she couldn’t. She had to keep her mind clear for this. Rachel was being crafty, too crafty.

“The curtains,” Santana repeated, pointing her finger at the object in question. “They can go up, as long as I get to put something up, too.”

“What?” Rachel asked, frowning.

“You get your curtains, I get my thing.”

“What is your thing exactly?” Thing was such an awful word, and now that Rachel’s plan of distraction had backfired, she was anxious.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

“Oh God, you didn’t find another one of those gaudy lamps did you? We just got over the last one,” Rachel cried out, thinking of the worst possible scenario. She couldn’t help look over at her lamp, her new, favourite, living room lamp. It was glorious.

“No! And if I had, I would not be asking permission to put it in my living room.” Santana scowled, unimpressed. Why were people always picking on that lamp?

“Our living room, or have you forgotten how much you need me?” It was meant to be said innocently, but there was nothing innocent about Rachel’s eyes when she said it, and Santana fought back a whimper. Her roommate was playing dirty again.

“Whatever, your curtains, my thing.”

“Will you at least tell me what it is?”

“Nope. It’s a surprise.” Santana tried hard to fight the smirk, but failed and the second Rachel saw it, she knew better than to agree.

“Hmm…then no.” She wasn’t going to take the chance.

“What? I thought you really wanted these curtains!” Santana cried out, so sure that she  was going to have a deal.

“I do, but I’m not having some mystery _thing_ take pride of place in the living room when you won’t tell me what it is. Santana, I’ve already seen your questionable taste, that lamp for instance, therefore it’s not a fair trade. You have at least seen the curtains that will be hanging up in here. So no, no deal.”

Santana hated to admit it, but her roommate did have a point. She had seen the curtains, Rachel was left to pick out the final three, and she knew what to expect. Rachel had no clue what Santana was going to be bringing in, and it made sense she didn’t want to concede so easily.

“Ugh, if I tell you what it is, will you agree?” she asked, turning to the other girl.

“Maybe. Depends.” Rachel shrugged and waited. It was only a matter of time.

“It’s a sign, of sorts,” Santana admitted, shrugging.

“Of sorts?”  Rachel furrowed her brow and wondered about what monstrosity Santana wanted to inflict on her now. There were so many possibilities, and why had she been so vague with its description?

“Look, it’s basically a sign. So, if I get to put that up, which you won’t take down, then you get to put up your curtains. Better deal?”

“What’s so special about this sign that has you trading the curtains for it?” There had to be more to it than that.

“It’s just something I want to put up,” Santana said, not making eye contact.

“But I’m going to have an issue with it, that’s what is secretly being said here.”

“No, you won’t have an issue with it. Well, you shouldn’t, and if you do, holy crap you’re a lot more uptight than I thought you were.” Rolling her eyes at that thought, Santana took a seat again.

“You think I’m uptight?” Rachel asked, feeling wounded. She watched as Santana shook her head and waved her hands signalling nothing of the sort before continuing.

“We’re getting off track. Do we have a deal?”

“Fine. We have a deal.” Holding out her hand, her chin up high, Rachel waited for Santana to shake on it before sinking back into the couch. She was sure she had just made a horrible error in judgement, but she really loved those curtains.

*0*0*

Santana sat on the end of the couch, waiting for Rachel to get home on her day off, and admired the new sign as it took pride of place on the back wall. Rachel’s curtains had been put up a few days previous, and Santana was not going to admit that they went rather well with the place. They even matched had stupid lamp, which stung a little.

Regardless, her sign was up, and she loved it.

Hearing the jingling of keys in the lock, she turned her head and watched as Rachel fluttered in, wiping down her damp coat from the rain, and dropped her keys next to the door. She hung up her coat and turned, only to stop and smile at seeing Santana.

“Hey, I thought you would be out. What’s going on?” Rachel asked, walking over to see why her roommate was perched on the end of the couch like that. Only when she came closer did she see the sign on the back wall, and immediately she was left speechless.

Santana continued to watch, just waiting for the first reaction, She was fully prepared for any diva tantrums, storm outs, and everything else she’d read about online in regards to her famous little roommate.

“I have an issue with it, and no, I am not uptight. You’re just mean,” Rachel finally said, pouting.

“It’s perfect,” Santana replied, grinning as she looked at it again.

“You’re sadistic.”

“You’re adorable.”

“Stop it. Your flattery will not work on me,” Rachel said, stomping her foot at the end. Santana rolled her eyes and refrained from pointing out that Rachel had just proved her point, she was adorable.

“I beg to differ.” Santana’s charm definitely worked on Rachel, and the other girl was kidding herself if she thought otherwise.

“Can we please take it down?” Rachel pleaded, completely unimpressed.

“Nope. Your curtains are up, my sign is up.”

“This is more than a sign, Santana! This is a personal attack on my person. Why would you do that to me? And why would you say it’s only a sign?” She was being completely dramatic, but she was an actor, she had to be.

“Oh please, this is not an attack on your person. It’s a factual sign, which updates daily,” Santana replied, unfazed by the dramatics. She was expecting Rachel to claim the deal was off because she’d broken some vague rule about deal making or something.

“You lied, therefore the deal is null and void.” Santana snorted at the predictability, and then waved her hands when Rachel made to remove it from the wall.

“Eh, no, and put your hand down right now. You touch that and I’ll pull the curtains down.” To prove her point, Santana rounded the couch and moved towards the windows. Her hand gripped the fabric, and she raised her eyebrows at Rachel, daring her to make the next move.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Rachel cried, her hand still hanging aimlessly. She wanted to remove the sign, but her curtains!

“I would! I do dare!” Santana cried back, giving them a slight tug to reaffirm her words.

“You can’t!”

“I’ll do it! Back away now!”

“Santana!”

“Rachel!”

“Hmph. I’m not impressed with you right now,” Rachel moaned, crossing her arms over her chest as she stepped back from the sign. It appeared that it was going to stay. How unfortunate.

“I really don’t care,” Santana said, walking over and ignoring Rachel’s uppity stance. She wrapped her arms around Rachel’s body and pulled her into her embrace. The girl would hug her back, goddammit.

“What are you doing?” Rachel mumbled, still attempting to look miffed.

“I’m hugging my roommate, but she’s not hugging me back. It’s kinda hurting my feelings.”

“You have feelings?” Rachel asked, causing Santana to gasp dramatically. Rachel rolled her eyes and finally relented, uncrossing her arms and snuggling into Santana’s body some more. As if she could resist. “I don’t like it,” she pouted, eyeing the sign again.

“You’ll learn to live with it. After all, you’ve learnt to live with me.”

“Are you implying what I think you’re implying?” Rachel questioned, glancing up at Santana as she did so.

“And what might that be?” Santana’s smirk was playing on her lips teasingly, and Rachel could think of only one sure way to remove it. She couldn’t, though. She couldn’t just attack her roommates lips with hers like that. As fantastic as kissing her would be, she was sure, now was not the time.

“Are you trying to get me to say that I like you?”

“I know you do, whether you say it or not,” Santana replied, completely sure of this fact. Please, the girl asked her out on a date, damn right Rachel liked her.

“Your arrogance is so unbecoming.”

“Your complete failure to acknowledge that you like me is a turn on,” Santana purred, making Rachel’s cheeks heat up. Gosh, how was she to keep hold of her good intentions if Santana did things like that?

“Why am I living here?” Rachel asked, slipping out of Santana’s arms and heading towards her room.

“Because I’m hot and you can break my sinks without me kicking you out!” she heard Santana call, laughing as she did so.

“That was rhetorical!”

“I don’t care!”

Grinning happily as she listened to Rachel close her door with more force than necessary, Santana turned back to her sign and chuckled. Oh, it was prefect. Best purchase ever. Turning away, she went to cook up some vegan friendly dinner to score points and left the sign alone.

Sitting pride of place in the living room for all to see, the sign had a picture of a broken sink, and beneath, a countdown marking how many days had passed since there had been a broken sink related incident.  The count was at seventeen.

Santana was convinced that in the next three months, it would be knocked back down to zero.

*0*0*

Once again, Santana’s apartment was buzzing with people. Thankfully, this time she knew everyone there, and it wasn’t packed. Rachel had convinced her to hold another social gathering with just their closest friends as she wanted to get to know everyone better. Somehow, the girl had managed to procure the day off from her show.

Apparently, her understudy’s parents-in-law were in town and Rachel was all too happy to let her have her night in the spotlight. Santana couldn’t help but wonder how big her understudy’s family was, as Rachel was always taking days off for their little family reunions. Whatever, Rachel wasn’t concerned, and this actually gave her a good excuse to throw a party, so no complaint would ever be heard.

Right then, Santana had a beer in one hand and some chips in the other as she admired her sign with her friends. Of course, she was going to show this thing off, it was amazing. Plus, Rachel would blush and grow shy every time someone asked about it, and that was by far the best reaction Santana could have hoped for.

“Why is it so specific?” Kurt asked, sipping his cocktail with poise. He was attempting to draw the attention of Blaine, but that was failing miserably, as Warbler was too interested in whatever Rachel’s friend was saying.

“She breaks too much, we would last a week before it had to be restarted. Plus, the sinks usually cost the most to repair and do the most damage,” Santana replied, shrugging. She’d given up trying to keep track of everything Rachel destroyed.

“I still don’t get why you’re living with her,” Quinn said, shaking her head at her friend’s foolishness.

“Have you seen those legs?” Santana asked, pointing behind them at the girl in question as she sat on the coffee table, or rather, sat sprawled across the coffee table, legs on show thanks to that pathetically short skirt.

“You’re so vain,” Quinn muttered, rolling her eyes.

“I bet you think this song is-“

“Kurt, if you start singing I’m going to cut your tongue off and shove it up your ass,” Santana warned, cutting him off just as he was about to attract attention.

“Geez, what’s up with you?” Kurt asked, pouting slightly. That song was now stuck in his head, and he was only looking for a way to express himself. Surely Quinn should be at blame since she started it all.

“There will not be any impromptu karaoke tonight, thank you very much. I do not need any more noise complaints from the neighbours.” Santana was internally going crazy as that song was playing again and again in her head. Fucking Porcelain.

“You’ve been getting noise complaints?” Quinn asked, smirking at this thought. Surely that would be enough to make Santana see that she was living with a complete crazy person, albeit a famous one.

“Yeah. She practices her vocals during the day before heading to rehearsal and the deaf lady three flights down has bitched about it. She keeps cornering me in elevator, demanding I get rid of the bird.”

“The bird?”

“She thinks I’ve bought a fucking parrot or something. I have no idea, but Rachel’s squawking is no longer allowed.”

“Squawking?” Kurt spluttered, his cocktail spilling onto his hand and dribbling down his chin. As he made to wipe it up, he caught Blaine’s eye and smiled, but he was sure he just looked like a messy toddler. Blaine looked away nervously, as if he wished he hadn’t been caught looking. Grumbling under his breath, Kurt finally got back to what he was saying. “Oh please, honey, you’re in for a treat. She has a voice like an angel.”

“You went to see one of her shows, didn’t you?” Santana said, unamused.

“She invited me.”

“She what?” That had caught her attention, and Santana turned to look at Kurt sharply. He took a step back, seeing the flash of anger beneath her cold exterior and tried to shuffle behind Quinn.

“She invited me?” Kurt repeated, making it sound more like a question.

Santana took a step back herself, not expecting that, and frowned. She quickly tried to cover up her reaction, but she knew from Quinn’s sniggering that it was too late. Fucking Quinn.

“Oh, are you…you can’t be…is Santana Lopez jealous?” she asked mockingly, smirking at her.

“What? I am not. Shut the fuck up. I’m just surprised she wanted to invite her number one stalker to wank off to her voice while she performed,” Santana spat, waving her hand in dismissal and going back to stare at her sign.

“I do not do that!” Kurt protested, sounding outraged.

“No, but Warbler over there does. Just look at him salivating over what’s his name. Disgusting.” Santana’s lip curled in repulsion as Warbler acted like a dog humping someone’s leg. Why was he even at this party? She certainly hadn’t invited him.

“You know, one of these days, you’re going to run into someone who you admire, and you’ll be the fan-girling and speechless one,” Quinn said, sounding far too cocky for her own good.

“I really doubt that.”

“It’s true,” Quinn added. “One of these days, Santana, and then we’ll forever mock you for it.”

“In your dreams, the both of you.” Utter rubbish. They were both talking crap.

“So just out of curiosity, what happens when she breaks another sink?” Kurt asked, pointing at the sign and then towards the sink in the kitchen.

“I need to find another insurance company.”

“I’m being serious,” he replied, annoyed at her flippancy.

“So am I! The woman on the phone totally thought I was swindling money out of them. Please, as if I’d waste my time doing that.”

That had been a fucking nightmare. Her cover had included accidental damage, but apparently, given how she’d broken two sinks in the last three months, she was pushing her luck. If Rachel did it again, she’d never be able to claim it and would need to get better cover.

“It would be a good money making scam though,” Quinn thought, turning to Kurt.

“Yeah, definitely something to think about,” he agreed, raising his glass to her thinking and toasting to it.

“You two are assholes,” Santana muttered, shaking her head. Please, as if any of them were going to swindle money from insurance companies due to accidental damage.

“Yet you invite us to your parties,” Quinn reminded her, only to be quickly shot down.

“I didn’t, she did.” Santana pointed over her shoulder and then turned to see just what her roommate was up to.

Rachel was still sprawled on the coffee table, giggling excitedly at whatever her friend Mike was saying. She looked gorgeous, and Jesus, Santana couldn’t get enough of her. It was almost unfair how much she cared for her roommate, and yet still couldn’t do anything about it.

Yes, she was trying to court the girl, but she didn’t know what that meant exactly. She wasn’t sure how Rachel would react to flowers, or if she’d want to go on another date with Santana. Neither of them had really spoken about the date itself, and now Santana could only think that perhaps Rachel had had second thoughts about pursuing her roommate.

“You’re a masochist,” Quinn said, interrupting her, and Santana nodded in agreement. It was still torture living with Rachel, but for completely different reasons as she first suspected, and yet she practically got off on being around the girl.

“Have you asked her out yet?” Kurt wondered, taking a sip of his drink.

“I thought she took you out,” Quinn added, frowning.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she did. And no, I haven’t. Not yet,” Santana replied, shrugging. She wanted to, but she had to be careful.

“What are you waiting on?”

“Have you seen how hot her friends and cast mates are? You could miss your chance.” Well, that was not fucking helpful, and Santana shot Kurt a glare.

“Stop it, the both of you. I’m just…I’m taking my time.”

“What?”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to be respectful about it.” Kurt and Quinn both sniggered at that, and stopped when Santana levelled them with another glare. “Something funny about that?”

“Nope.”

“No.”

“We’re just surprised,” Kurt began, hiding behind Quinn once more. The blonde was seriously growing tired of being used as a human shield. “Normally, you dive right on…literally. Okay, okay, I’m sorry, but you don’t usually care about taking your time or being respectful. So, what’s the big deal?”

“I just don’t want to fuck things up. She’s important to me, and yeah, sleeping with her would be great, but after the sex, I don’t want things to go on as if nothing happened.”

That was Santana’s biggest fear. She was pretty certain that Rachel would want more than a quick fling, but she hadn’t actually expressed as much. Plus, Santana didn’t know if this was her first time  pursuing another girl or not. She could still just be experimenting, and Santana hardly wanted to put her heart on the line for that.

“Just checking, have you slept with her?” Quinn asked, trying to slyly move behind Kurt, which was a challenge.

“No!” Jesus, they never stopped.

“Okay, I was just asking.” Satisfied, Santana relaxed but of course, Quinn wasn’t done. “Will you ever sleep with her? Because, I have quite a bit of money on this, and I’m thinking about adding more but someone has already put money on the two of you never having sex and I don’t want to lose…I’m shutting up now, promise.”

“Good idea,” Santana growled, taking a swig of her beer. Fucking hell, why wasn’t she drinking anything stronger?

“You know what, I propose we have a night out,” Kurt said, drawing their attention to him. “It’s been forever since the three of us just went out had a good time, and Santana you definitely need to let loose.”

“I don’t want to get drunk and sleep with some floozy.” That would hardly do her any favours with Rachel.

“You won’t,” Quinn said, positively. “We’ll have your back. We’ll make sure there is no floozy, and that you’re not drunk.”

“Yes, tipsy at most. We promise!”

Santana eyed the two of them for a second, taking in their excited and hopeful faces before nodding. They were right, it had been forever since they’d all gone out together, and catching up without trying to impress those around them might do some good.

Satisfied with this turn of events, Santana lessened her bitchy attitude towards them. She actually had pretty decent friends when she needed them.

*0*0*

She was going to fucking kill those two assholes. They had promised. Those fucking fuckers. She should have known better, she should have monitored them, she should have realised that the singles she had been drinking all night were in fact doubles and now she was wasted. Santana knew better, so how the hell had she ended up in this predicament?

Down on her hands and knees, using the walls as support, Santana crawled towards her apartment. Quinn and Kurt had been decent enough to drop her off home in a taxi and deposit her in the elevator, but after that, she was on her own. She had begun crawling from the elevator to her door, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that when she was sober, she was going to kill them. They both knew how much she didn’t want to go home in a state like this.

Drunk Santana was never a good Santana. They knew this! They were taking advantage of this fact! They wanted to win that stupid bet of theirs, and no. Santana refused to try and bed her hot as fuck roommate just because she had liquid courage in her bloodstream. Okay, well, sober Santana would have had a thought like that, but drunk Santana was thinking about how long she had to wait before she could get out of this dress. Damn thing was not comfortable. Why the fuck did she put it on?

Finally arriving at her apartment door, still on her hands and knees because walking in a straight line was just not possible, Santana hunted out her keys and jammed them in the lock. Well, not on the first try, so the door was stabbed a few times, but then she totally did it and managed to get inside.

The door shut quietly behind her, and deciding it best to leave her bag and shoes at the door, Santana leant against the unit to ditch them there. Then, she tried to focus on the hallway ahead to get to her bedroom. It wasn’t that far, but fuck if she wasn’t going to have carpet burns by the time she got there.

Steeling herself up for the journey, she set off, shuffling and crawling her way closer. She had to stop for breaks every now and then as she face planted the floor from lack of coordination, but she was managing.

“Hi there,” Rachel called out, dropping the script she had in her hand as she looked at her normally well-presented roommate crawling across the living room floor.

Santana turned at the sound, startled that she hadn’t seen Rachel and bit her lip in embarrassment. Of course, of all the nights Rachel waited up after a show, it just had to be tonight. Stupid Quinn and Kurt. Stupid fucking booze.

“Hello,” she replied, almost whispering. Rachel sat up further on the couch and smiled.

“You okay down there?” Her voice was soft, caring, and Santana felt like a complete fool for looking like such an idiot.

“I can’t walk right,” she explained, shrugging again. If her legs and brain could fucking cooperate, she would have already made it to the bedroom, and she never would be making such a tit of herself.

“Have you been drinking?” Rachel wondered, her smiling getting wider. She looked like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.  

“Maybe.” Rachel chuckled softly and crawled along the couch until she was leaning over the armrest, staring down at Santana. She looked lovely, Santana noted, and gah, if she could just coordinate her arms, she would love to crawl over and kiss her like that. Why hadn’t they kissed yet? Rachel liked her, right? She took her on a date, that counted for something, didn’t it?

“Alright then, that explains why you’re crawling around. Do you need help getting to bed?” Mentally, Santana tried to work out how inappropriate it would be to insist Rachel joined her. Maybe that would be pushing things, just a bit.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.” Laughing, Rachel got up off the couch and moved over to help.

Santana flopped back onto the floor and accepted Rachel’s hands in hers to pull her up. She couldn’t help lean into Rachel as she made it to her feet, and used her free hand to grip the girl’s waist to stay steady.

“Thank you,” Santana murmured, still holding Rachel’s hand, before dropping her head down onto the girl’s shoulder. She felt Rachel chuckle and run her free hand over her back. Sighing in contentment, she nuzzled in further and shut her eyes.

“We should get you to bed,” Rachel whispered softly, noting how tired Santana looked.

“Mmm, no, let’s stay here.”

“Here?”

“Here.”

How was Rachel to argue with that? Her roommate was snuggling up to her, holding her, showing her more affection in these last ten minutes than she had since the day of their date. Even then, though, Santana had not been this affectionate.

Santana was convinced this was the best thing ever. Her roommate had her arms around her, was holding her up, and letting her nuzzle into her skin. Good lord, had she died from alcohol poisoning, and was this heaven? It surely felt like heaven.

“Hi,” Santana murmured, turning her head to see Rachel looking at her.

“Hi,” she replied, smiling softly.

Moving her hands, Santana sought Rachel’s out and entwined their fingers together. She was still leaning on her, but Rachel wasn’t complaining. Then, just like Santana had done that day on the street before their date, she leant her forehead against hers and smiled. God, this girl.

“Can I help you with something?” Rachel teased, raising her eyebrow in question. Biting back a laugh, Santana licked her lips and shook her head.

“Nope, I just wanted to get you close.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” She felt the heat in her cheeks and looked away, shrugging.

“I guess I just missed you,” Santana admitted, losing herself in her roommate’s gaze.

“I’ve not been gone anywhere.”

“I’ve not seen you these last few nights, and you’ve been asleep in the mornings. I’ve hardly seen you at all.”

“You missed me,” Rachel said, knowing it wasn’t a question. She felt her heart pick up pace at this realisation, and butterflies attacked her stomach.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Santana asked, frowning at the mere thought of it being one.

“You know it’s not.”

“Good.” Letting go of her hands, Santana wrapped her arms around Rachel’s neck and pulled her even closer, just wanting to feel the other girl against her completely. Fuck playing it safe, why couldn’t she cuddle her roommate whenever she wanted to? What was wrong with that? Why had she been denying herself this pleasure?

“You smell so fucking good, do you know that?” Santana murmered, running her rose along Rachel’s neck, causing the other girl to take a deep breath and fight off the impending lust.

“I do, do I?”

“Yeah, just amazing.” Thankfully, Santana remained oblivious to the affect she was having on her.

“How drunk are you?” Rachel asked, curious to see if this would be remembered tomorrow. It could either be a godsend and a great push in the right direction if remembered, or and utter nightmare if remembered.

“Mmmm…pretty drunk, but you know what they say?” Santana drawled, lips brushing over Rachel’s neck once more.

“No, what do they say?” Rachel’s voice sounded shaky and uneven, and it felt like she was fighting a losing battle with the moan about to break free.

“In vino veritas!” Santana cried, squeezing her tightly for a second before relaxing.

“Are you speaking Latin?” That was Latin, right?

“Yep. I’m a smart drunk, me.” Gosh, how could Rachel resist this girl? She was quoting Latin to her while drunk, who does that?

“Just like me, then.”

“Apparently so.”

“And what does ‘in vino veritas’ mean exactly?” she asked, curious to hear what had been said.

“In wine there is truth,” Santana said proudly, grinning. “You’re gorgeous. I can’t stop looking at you.” Rachel fought the blush and rolled her eyes. This girl, this goddamn girl, she was making it impossible to resist falling so carelessly.

“And you’re quite the charmer. Let’s get you to bed,” Rachel replied, unable to even contemplate addressing Santana’s words. Thankfully, Santana accepted what she said and began snuggling back into Rachel’s neck.

“Hmm, okay.”  

Satisfied that there would be no more drunken confessions, Rachel slowly moved them backwards towards Santana’s room. She had actually never been in her roommate’s room and was curious to see what it was like. On many occasions, she had considered opening the door to have a peek, but thought better of it.

Now, as she shuffled Santana into it, she really couldn’t see much of the place. Checking quickly, she noted that Santana’s eyes were shut, and not wanting to wake her back up if she was growing drowsy, Rachel opted to keep the light off and moved her towards the bed.

She would just need to check out the room another time.

Pulling back the covers to Santana could slide right on in, Rachel precariously left Santana leaning against her. Once they were out the way, she sat the girl down and made to remove her shoes. Santana lay back the second she felt her bed beneath her and moaned in happiness. This was where she had wanted to be all along, and even better, Rachel was there, too.

Not thinking twice of it, Santana reached to remove her dress and whined when she couldn’t get it off. Rachel saw the dilemma she was in and cursed herself. This was not the scenario she had in mind when she thought of stripping Santana of her clothes.

Being the good roommate that she was, she did everything in her power not to ogle the other girl as she helped remove the constricting dress and throw a sleep shirt on her. It took so much energy to be well behaved, but Rachel was determined not to be that kind of creepy roommate. Jumping out at four a.m. with fabric swatches, totally acceptable level of creepy. Staring at your roommate’s fantastic body as you held undress her drunken self, not acceptable level of creepy.

With Santana finally in bed and the covers over her body, Rachel let out a relived sigh. She took one last look at her roommate, completely enamoured with her, before brushing the hair out of her face and moving to take her leave.

“You’ll go on a date with me, right? I’ve wanted to take you on a date for weeks,” Santana said suddenly, her eyes still shut, and having reached out and grabbed Rachel’s hand before she pulled it away.

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you, and you should have asked sooner. I was hoping you would.” That seemed to make everything better, and Santana smiled happily.

Before Rachel registered what was happening, Santana had opened her eyes, pulled Rachel closer and cupped one side of her face. She kissed her cheek softly, nuzzling into her cheek and then pulled away, dropping back onto the bed unceremoniously.

“Night night, Rach,” Santana drawled, wrapping the covers up over her body.

“Goodnight, Santana.”

Elated by the kiss on her cheek and the date offer, which she hoped Santana would remember in the morning, Rachel slipped out of her room and shut the door. That was such an unexpected turn to her evening, but it was rather adorable to see.

Back in bed, Santana’s heart was soaring, her body buzzing with happiness. Right then and there, she fucking loved Kurt and Quinn. Best friends ever. Who knew that she only needed a little bit of liquid courage to kick start things again? 

* * *

 


	6. The Roommate's Kiss

*0*0*

The Roommate’s Kiss

*0*0*

Waking up feeling like death was completely unsurprising given last night’s activities. Santana’s stomach was still rolling from the alcohol and she knew she looked an absolute state. After sliding out of bed, zombie walking it to the bathroom where she took a shower, and guzzling three quarters of the mouthwash, she finally emerged to do damage control.

Last night was not full of hazy memories and black spots, but crystal clear and replaying like a 3D movie in her head. She remembered the crawl from the elevator, she remembered stabbing the door in an effort to get inside, she remembered attempting to make it to her bedroom on her hands and knees, and she remembered Rachel being awake to see it all.

Then, of course, the main feature; her over affectionate drunken self was cuddling, nuzzling, snuggling up to Rachel, quoting Latin, confessing all her thoughts and feelings on the other girl, and even had the confidence to ask her on a date.

Good lord, what the hell had she been thinking? How was she to face her roommate now? What had she done? This could be irreversible damage. Was Rachel just humouring her last night? Did she actually want to go on a date or did she just say that to shut her up?

Sighing, Santana took a moment to prepare herself before heading into the kitchen. Rachel was sitting at the counter, paper spread open, and a plate of questionable food to the side. She smiled in greeting, and just let Santana adjust back into the land of the living, which was very much appreciated.

Grabbing a glass and pouring some water into it, Santana shot Rachel another look and was caught. She casted her eyes away, embarrassed, and heard a small chuckle from her roommate. Whatever. She was only hoping to see what kind of way Rachel was going to treat her.

For all Santana knew, Rachel could have been annoyed at having to look after Santana. She could have been annoyed with the affection, the drunken musings, the way she asked her out, and just generally having to deal with such a situation. There was nothing about this in their roommate agreement.

Turning back around, after finishing off her glass of water, Santana was met with the amused eyes of Rachel. She had a smile playing on her lips, leaning her head on her clasped hands, elbows on the table, and waiting for Santana to speak.

“I was crawling,” she began, the gravely sound of sleep still in her voice, and a tinge of embarrassment creeping in.

“Yes. Yes, you were,” Rachel replied, nodding along. Her smile grew with each passing second, and if it wasn’t so lovely to watch her like that, Santana would have stormed away to hide herself under her covers.

“I was drunk,” she stated, nodding her head slowly, summing up another part of last night to see if Rachel was bothered by it. The smile remained, so it looked like she wasn’t.

“Yep. That was the reason why you were crawling, I assume anyway,” she said, her tone teasing. Santana narrowed her eyes and pouted, unamused with being mocked that time. Maybe later, when she’d licked her embarrassed wounds, but not while it was still fresh.

“I asked you out on a date.” That was a big one, and she watched her carefully, expecting to see some falter in Rachel’s smile.

“Yeah, you did that, too,” she added, sitting up straighter, smile unaffected.

“You said yes.”

“I did.” That’s when Rachel’s smile did falter slightly. It was as if she was waiting for Santana to take it back, as if she expected her to say she hadn’t meant to ask her out, as if she needed to protect herself from whatever rejection may lay ahead.

“Thank you,” Santana said simply, moving forward to lean on the counter herself.

“You’re welcome. I’m looking forward to it, so don’t let me down,” Rachel answered, smile back in full force, while she patted the counter to reaffirm her words.

“I wouldn’t dare.” And she wouldn’t. Santana desperately wanted this next date to be a success.

The two of them seemed to have entered some unknown type of limbo where no movement forward was being made, but yet they couldn’t move back. They both seemed to be sizing the other up, trying to see how interested they were before taking the plunge forward. Of course, Santana skipped a few steps, thanks to all that liquid courage, and now she had a few doubts.

She wanted to take Rachel on a date, for sure, but still there were thoughts in the back of her head wondering what Rachel expected from this. If it was nothing but fun for the girl, she would be devastated, and maybe she needed to work out what they were doing before things became too complicated. She needed an exit strategy in place, just in case.

The last time she didn’t have one, she ended up with a ridiculous mortgage and crazy sink breaking roommates. One was definitely required before any movement could be made. It was a must.

On another note, never before had Santana ever thought she would actually want to have this conversation, the ‘where is this going?’ conversation. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the luxury of playing it cool with Rachel as they did live together. It was necessary in case the whole thing went tits up, in a bad way.

Knowing that the sooner she did this, the better, Santana deposited her glass on the counter and walked round it, straight towards Rachel. Nothing quite like being direct and to the point.

Rachel watched on curiously, spinning in her chair so her knees touched Santana’s body when it came to stand in front of her. Biting her lip in curiosity, Rachel watched Santana’s determined eyes, and allowed the other girl to take her hands in hers. Flashbacks of last night were firing behind her eyes as Santana entwined their fingers together, making her pulse quicken. Just the girl’s touch was enough to drive her crazy. No fair.

“You took care of me,” Santana finally said, chickening out of the direct approach, as her thumbs caressing Rachel’s hands.

“I tried to,” Rachel replied, shrugging one shoulder.

“You did, thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, you would have done the same.” Her confidence and faith had Santana giving her a soft smile, the impulse to just lean closer and kiss Rachel becoming overwhelming. It wasn’t the right time, however. She needed to work out what this was.

When the smile fell from Santana’s lips, Rachel knew something serious was about to go down. She wasn’t sure what exactly, but she sat up a little straight, squeezed Santana’s hands in hers, and waited for the fallout.

It didn’t seem like Santana was revoking their date, which was good, but her serious face was sending mixed messages. Whatever it was, Rachel was growing impatient by Santana’s pensive look as she bit her lip nervously. It was time for her to take charge.

“Whatever it is, just say it, please,” Rachel begged, ducking her head so she could catch Santana’s eyes. She looked back, surprised, but nodded.

“Is this just some way for you to pass the time?” The Band-Aid had been ripped off, but from the frown on Rachel’s face, Santana knew that she was going to have to explain further. So not what she wanted.

“What do you mean?” Rachel asked, taking her hands back and crossing her arms. With her stance so protective, so defensive, Santana stepped out of her space and moved back. She didn’t want to make her feel threatened at all.

“Me, us, whatever it is we’re up to.”

“I thought we were going out on a date.”

“Yeah, I still want to do that,” Santana confined, nodding. No way did she want to take that back. She’d been thinking about it for weeks, and hell, she thought she had it all worked out before Rachel asked her first.

“So what are you really asking me?” Rachel queried, tucking her hair behind her ear as she fidgeted with her hands. She looked nervous, as if she had been lured into a trap and was assessing the way out, and Santana hated that look. She needed to just get this conversation over and done with before it messed things up completely.

“Does this…Do I actually mean anything to you? I mean, fuck, I don’t know what I mean. I don’t just want to screw you once and have this mean nothing. You mean a lot to me, and crap, I don’t want to ruin things between us and have you leave-“ She was rambling, but she couldn’t help it. All she wanted to do was hug the girl, tell her she was sorry for even opening her mouth and to just forget all about it, but that wasn’t going to happen.

“Shh,” Rachel whispered, placing her finger over Santana’s lips and cutting her off in her stride. “I’m not messing you about. I’m not just experimenting. I genuinely want to see where this goes. And if dating doesn’t work, I’d still like to count you as a friend, Santana.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rachel replied, nodding softly, tugging Santana back to her. She had wrongly assessed the situation and it was clear the other girl wasn’t about to confess to just wanting to be friends, so in Rachel’s book, that meant they could return to how they were before.  “Plus, where else can I stay and get away with breaking so many sinks without being kicked out?” she teased, shrugging one shoulder and running one hand up and down Santana’s arm.

“Read my mind,” Santana muttered, rolling her eyes, but smiling back at her.

They had both found their footing again, and despite the wobbly step in the middle, it seemed they were both on the same path. Happy with this news, Santana continued to ignore the affectionate barriers she had up previously, and wrapped her arms around Rachel, hugging her. There was just something about the girl that made her want to hold her…amongst other things.

Clearing her throat after Rachel hugged her back, Santana ran a hand through her hair and straightened up, getting ready to make herself some breakfast and get on with the day. Moving round the counter, Santana opened the fridge and perused the goods. It was slim pickings, and she really needed to go shopping, but fuck that with a hangover.

“Breakfast’s in the oven,” Rachel chimed in suddenly. She dropped her eyes back on the paper before her when Santana shot her a questioning look, but continued onto the oven anyway.

It was on a low heat, something she had missed, and after putting on an oven glove, she opened the door and moaned aloud, to the giggles of Rachel in the background. There, on an oven tray, was bacon, eggy bread, pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns, sausages, and fucking hell, it was a hangover cure in itself. Just the greasy food Santana was desperate to eat without the effort of cooking it herself.

“Where did you get this? I know you didn’t cook it for me,” Santana asked, continuing to moan appreciatively as she pulled it out the oven and set about putting it on a plate. If the food wasn’t so hot, she would have forgone the plate and ate it right out the oven tray with her hands, but yeah, she might want to save that lovely sight for another time.

“There’s a diner about a block away. They were kind enough to box it up for me,” Rachel confessed, knowing better this time round. She didn’t need another cake incident all over again. “The maple syrup is in the cupboard,” she added, sensing that Santana would be looking for that next, which indeed she was.

As Santana deposited the food on her plate, grabbed a knife and fork, fetched the maple syrup and got ready to dive on in, she realised that her roommate was a goddess. Yes, she was aware of this before, but fucking hell, this was above and beyond the roommate agreement. Hell, with the points Rachel had scored from this gesture, Santana almost felt kind enough to forgive her for destroying her gaudy lamp.

Almost.

Still, that didn’t deflect from how sweet it was. Moving back round the counter, Santana pulled Rachel off the stool and into her arms, much to the girl’s amusement, and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

“You’re fucking awesome,” she said, looking her dead in the eye.

“You said something similar last night.”

“Yeah well, still true.” Turning back round to survey the food, her mouth salivating at the thought, she was unable to hold back the happy grin. “Fuck me, this is glorious.”

“I thought you might like.”

“I love,” Santana amended, eyes fixated on the food.

“Are you still tipsy?” Rachel asked curiously. This had to be the strangest her roommate had ever acted around food.

“Nope. Why?” Santana answered simply.

“You’re cute when you get drunk.” It wasn’t a direct answer, but it was enough to have Santana pausing with her fork over her plate, and cocking her head to look back at Rachel. She seemed to be finding the obituary section of the paper just fascinating.

“And I’m being cute now?” she asked.

“Something like that,” Rachel muttered, shrugging her shoulder, hiding a smile. Santana grinned at the compliment while Rachel grew more embarrassed. “We should do that again sometime, you being drunk I mean. It was quite fun to experience.”

A fun experience, a fun experience for whom?

“God, no. I need to go and kill Quinn and Kurt. Those bastards.” They had promised not to get her drunk. She had entrusted them and they had broken said trust. For that, they would dearly pay.

Yes, they had also provided her with the liquid courage to get where she was now with Rachel, but whatever. Trust had been broken. It was almost as bad as Rachel breaking her trust when she destroyed her gaudy lamp.

Almost.

“You’re so mean,” Rachel chuckled, shaking her head as she cursed out her friends.

“You love it,” Santana shot back.

Smiling coyly, Rachel bit her lip and took a deep breath, neither confirming nor denying Santana’s statement, which just made her grin brighter. With that, Rachel told Santana to enjoy her breakfast and vacated the kitchen, much to her amusement.

Alone with her food, Santana ditched the knife and fork and tucked in. Her roommate had provided her hangover food, she officially was the best roommate ever, and if Santana hadn’t already asked her out on a date, she would have done it just then for that one gesture.

Amazing, her roommate was amazing.

*0*0*

Given how busy both Santana and Rachel’s schedules were, they had to wait another week before they could have their date, and even then Rachel had no idea that it was about to commence. Santana had craftily convinced her to come home from a spur of the moment shopping trip with Kurt due to a curtain disaster she was having.

The simple lie that she had tripped, fallen, ripped one of the curtains and spilt something on it in the process had Rachel frantically heading back to not only scold her roommate for her mistreatment of their curtains, but also worried about any injuries said roommate had gained when she tripped up.

So it was with a flurry of action that the apartment door swung open, Rachel flying on in, dropping her bags to the floor and pulled off her coat, that she realised something was amiss. The apartment, which had been tidy when she’d left, was now spotless, and not only that, but there was a strong aroma of good food in the air, the coffee table had plate settings out, music was quietly playing, and her roommate looked to be injury free.

“What’s all this?” Rachel asked, finally turning to check the curtains. They were still up and looking brilliant. God, if the stage stopped working for her she would become an interior designer or decorator or something like that. It felt like her second calling.

Santana rose from where she was leaning on the edge of the couch and crossed the floor towards Rachel. Her roommate looked pleasantly surprised, and with each passing second, a small smile grew on her lips, which eased Santana’s worries considerably.

She had put a lot of thought into it, and it just made sense to keep things causal, light and keep expectations low. After all, they were still trying to work out how they felt about the other. While Santana knew she was rather hung up on her roommate, she wanted to make sure she didn’t come on too strong or get her hopes up.

So yes, she’d opted for a very casual, laid back, date. It felt right, and with Rachel’s happy little grin, she knew she’d made the correct decision. Thank God.

“This is our date, if you want it to be,” Santana began, frowning slightly in case Rachel actually had plans she didn’t know about.

“I want it to be,” Rachel said suddenly, cutting Santana’s thoughts short.

“I know this isn’t exactly special, but I sort of didn’t want to share you with everyone else,” Santana admitted, rubbing the back of her neck nervously.

She could have taken her out, but there were pros and cons to that. For starters, the amount of time they’d actually have together, one on one, seriously dwindled due to travel, interruptions, and other factors Santana wasn’t ready to consider. This just seemed better, more personal.

“Share me?” Rachel asked, silently trying hard to stop the pathetic whimpering noise she her body was trying to make at that adorable confession.

“Yeah, when we’re out, people recognise you and fawn over you, and…”

“And you don’t like that?” Rachel could understand if Santana didn’t, because at times it did become a bit too much, but they were her fans, and she loved them.

“No, it’s pretty awesome to see you with your fans, but I don’t see you like that, famous I mean. You’re just Rachel, and when we’re out there, you’re Rachel Berry, Broadway royalty, and I kinda just want my Rachel.”

Her Rachel. _Her_ Rachel. Gosh, was Santana trying to kill her? _Her Rachel_.

“You’re incredibly sweet, and this is special, Santana. I don’t care where we have our dates, or what we do, all I care is that I’m spending time with you,” she replied, making sure to squash all the other girl’s worries in the process. Santana sent her a thankful smile before breaking the moment by pulling her into the kitchen.

She politely asked if Rachel wanted wine or a similar drink before fetching herself a non-alcoholic beer. Rachel agreed to have the wine, knowing it would not only calm some of the butterflies in her stomach, but also because there was no harm if she ate enough it would wear off in time for her show.

They chatted mindlessly as Santana started messing with the various pots and pans on the cooker, and inspecting the dishes in the oven. All of it smelt great, and there wasn’t even the slight hint of meat in the air, which had Rachel curious. Slipping off the stool she’d been sitting on, she crossed the room and had a good look at all the food. Not a bit of meat in sight.

“You cooked vegan food,” she whispered, unable to stop grinning at the effort her roommate had gone to. Santana was setting up the plates, ready to begin serving, and her cheeks tinged slightly when she heard Rachel’s words.

“I tried,” she answered, shrugging.

“No, you did, look at this!” Food was definitely a way into Rachel’s heart, and whether her roommate realised that or not, she didn’t know, but this had scored her major points. Almost enough for Rachel to forget the little lie Santana had told about the curtains to get her home.

Almost.

“What if it takes like crap?” Santana asked, frowning at the food she was plating up.

“I’ll smile and hide it in my napkin,” Rachel replied, earning a shocked laugh from Santana as she smiled cheekily at her.

“I would be offended if I didn’t think I’m going to be doing the same.”

“You could have cooked meat, you know. I don’t mind.”

“I know, but I figured I’d try something different for once.” With another shrug, Santana carried the plates through into the living room, while Rachel followed behind her.

After a few more trips, Santana had brought everything through and turned off everything in the kitchen, ready to actually start eating. She wasn’t too thrilled with the selection, but Rachel looked ready to start drooling so she assumed she had done a good job.

Planting herself down on the rug by the coffee table, Santana waited for Rachel to do the same, but was met with a raised eyebrow in question.

“Come on, sit down.”

“We’re sitting on the floor?” Rachel asked, now understanding why the place had been cleaned spick and span.

“I was going for comfortable and rustic, just shush your mouth and sit your ass down. Plus, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we don’t have a dining table.”

“Yeah, why is that?” The thought alone brought a confused frown to Rachel’s brow as she picked up her knife and fork, and Santana already knew she was in dangerous territory. She should never have mentioned it, it would only lead to chaos.

“I never really wanted one.” Hoping to brush the conversation off, Santana took a hefty bite of whatever the hell she was eating, and promptly burnt her mouth in the process. It should have been a sign, an omen, that she wasn’t getting off that easy.

“You have the space, if we move the furniture a bit.” Rachel looked around, already starting to consider what furniture could go where. The bookshelves would maybe have to move, and she might need to get rid of that side table, but it could work.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Aww you don’t want a dining table?”

“We can eat at the kitchen counter,” Santana said, ignoring the slight pout on her roommate’s lip after having her plans shot down.

“But that’s not the same as a table,” Rachel argued, still trying to prove her point.

“Rachel, we hardly ever eat together, what does it matter if we have a table?” While that was a valid point, it didn’t work with Rachel’s argument so she quickly dismissed it.

“For parties!” She was grasping at straws, but this was now something she wanted.

“For parties?” Santana repeated, raising her eyebrows, almost desperate to call bullshit on this whole thing.

“Yes, dinner parties! Oh, we should get a table and throw our very first dinner party together! How great would that be?!” Rachel was smiling wildly, very pleased with her idea, but no, just no.

“Enthralling,” Santana deadpanned.

“You don’t think so?”

“Oh really, you picked up on that?” she replied sarcastically.

“I want a dining table,” Rachel declared, as if making that the end of the conversation. God, if Santana wasn’t crazy about her roommate and sane enough to put up with her mad ideas, who knows how many people she would have killed in homicidal rage. It felt as if Rachel had the ability to bring that out in people.

“Is this going to be like the lamp all over again?” Santana asked, allowing Rachel to finish chewing before raising her eyebrows for an answer.

“I don’t know. Do I need to purposely destroy some of your furniture before you’ll let me put a table in here?” It was teasing and light, a sparkle of mirth in Rachel’s eyes, but Santana missed it completely. Her fork clattered on her plate, while her other hand gripped her knife, and yeah, homicidal rage, definitely easy to surface around Rachel.

“Purposely destroy? So you did destroy my gaudy lamp on purpose!” Santana cried, pointing across the coffee table, horrified that the truth was finally coming out after many lies and excuses.

“No I did not. I was kidding,” Rachel lamented, rolling her eyes at the dramatics. And people thought she was the crazy one.

“It’s too soon to joke,” Santana said seriously, shaking her head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re a murderer.”

“I did not murder your lamp!” This was bonkers, and Rachel was laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“You smashed it into a thousand pieces, if that’s not murder, what is?” Santana argued back, curious to see how her roommate would squirm her way out of this one. As it turns out, she didn’t even answer the damn question.

“I think you need to go see someone about this,” Rachel replied, giving her a pointed look. Pft, Santana was fine. Rachel was the crazy one.

“Yeah, the cops. My roommate’s a murder.”

“I’m ignoring you,” Rachel sang, twirling her food on her fork, thoroughly enjoying it.

“Good luck doing that,” was Santana’s muttered response a second later.

“What do you mean?” Rachel asked curiously.

“I’ve seen your eyes glance down my shirt at least three times since you came home. You couldn’t ignore me if you tried.”

Blasted, she’d been caught. How was she meant to resist when Santana’s cleavage was on show like that? Deciding not to be dragged into that conversation any further, Rachel pretended not to hear her and went back to eating. Santana knew she’d one by the slightly flustered look on her roommate’s face and chuckled. She knew that would work, and she was a fucking genius for opening the top three buttons of her shirt.

At least Santana knew for sure that Rachel was attracted to her, that was something even if they didn’t work out.  

*0*0*

In the aftermath of their date, which actually turned out to be rather successful once they moved onto safer topics, Santana and Rachel tried hard to spend as much time as possible with the other. It was tricky with their work and other commitments they had going on, but they were managing.

Afternoons spent watching movies on their couch when Santana came home early, competing on the crossword puzzles over breakfast, silent hugs goodnight late at night, all became part of their routine, and with each passing day they grew closer and closer.

Santana knew how she felt about her roommate, and it seemed her roommate felt a similar way, but they were still taking it easy, much to Santana’s friends’ disgust. Apparently, some of them were losing money on the sex bet they had running, but in Santana’s eyes, they deserved it. However, it did bring up a good point.

Sex, intimacy, it was something Santana had definitely thought about in regards to her roommate, but they hadn’t even kissed yet, and that was just not acceptable. She wanted to kiss Rachel, holy fuck did she want to kiss Rachel, but how did she know when it was too soon?

They’d kissed each other on the cheeks countless times, their hugs had grown in intimacy, more like lover’s embraces than roommate’s hugs, and depending on what the other was wearing, there was some serious eye-sexing going on. So why the fuck hadn’t they kissed yet?

Santana couldn’t help but muse over this, kind of caught in a perpetual state of arousal as of late, when Rachel joined her in the living room.

“I have something for you,” she declared, show smile in place.

Santana glanced round the apartment, looking for anything that might stand out as being broken, needing replaced, or just plain ugly, before looking back to her roommate. They hadn’t discussed more on the dining table, nor had they spoke about what else might be added to redecorate the place, so it felt long overdue.

“What is it?” Santana asked cautiously, sitting up a little bit straighter in case she needed to use her back bone for something other than a doormat.

“Tickets…to my show. I have tickets for you to come see my show,” Rachel answered, her smile faltering under her nerves, but hopeful nonetheless.

“You want me to see it?” Okay, that was not what Santana had been expecting. Not at all.

“Yes, I do. Before, when I invited Kurt and Blaine, it was because they’re fans. They knew who I was and they were so excited-“

“And I didn’t give a damn,” Santana interrupted, getting up off the couch to go hide in her room. She was such a shitty friend and roommate, not taking interest in Rachel’s work.

Watching the girl walk away like that had Rachel frowning and getting up to follow her. That was not how she thought things would go, and she intended to clear things up immediately.

“No, Santana, I really didn’t mean it like that.” Gripping Santana’s hand once she had her attention, Rachel tugged her body back to her and immediately sought to wrap her arms round Santana’s neck. “I didn’t think you’d like it, like me. And I didn’t want you to like me any less.”

It had been a worry of hers. Once Santana knew who she was, how other people viewed her, she was anxious to see how their friendship, and whatever else they were embarking on now, would cope. It seemed to be doing well, but only last week Santana had voiced how inside the apartment she was Rachel, and outside she was Rachel Berry.

She didn’t want Santana to not like her because of her job, and while she was probably being silly, her mind couldn’t help but think this was the perfect way to combine the two worlds; her home and her work. Plus, she already checked with Santana’s friends, who were becoming her friends now, too, and they thought it was a great idea.

“You’re crazy,” Santana murmured, rather intoxicated with Rachel’s body pressed up against hers. To even think that Santana wouldn’t like Rachel because of her performing on Broadway was ludicrous.

“You’ve been saying that since I moved in,” Rachel commented, beginning to think it was actually a compliment from her rough round the edges roommate. As standoffish as Santana wished to be, Rachel had seen how sweet and caring she actually was, and all the name calling and insults were so her way of showing affection. She was sure of it.

“Yes, true. But I mean, you’re crazy to think I could like you less.”

“So you’ll come to my show?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Rachel beamed and squealed, hugging Santana tighter, her head falling into the crook of Santana’s neck as she did so. That’s all she’d wanted to hear, that she’d give it a shot.

Pulling her head back, she bit her lip nervously, realising she still had to drop the other half of the news, and in a bid to calm the somewhat feisty attitude she knew Santana possessed, Rachel ran her fingertips up and down the back of Santana’s neck.

“It’s not just you…though,” she whispered, avoiding eye contact.

“Hmm?” Santana questioned, having heard what Rachel said but not really getting what she meant.

“I also invited Quinn, Mercedes, Dave, Sebastian-“

“Sebastian?!” There was that feisty attitude. Not one to be thrown off, Rachel continued.

“-Kurt and Blaine.”

“Kurt and Warbler already saw it!” Santana protested, her hands gripping Rachel’s hips. They had been soothingly caressing her sides, but that had stopped abruptly with the announcement of Sebastian.

“Shh!” Rachel said, planting her finger on Santana’s lips to keep her quiet. It was quite an effective technique. “They wanted to see it again, and Sebastian was invited to our first party so it would be rude not to invite him. He’s your friend.”

“He’s a pain in my ass,” Santana grumbled.

“Well, he’s coming, so you’ll need to just endure his presence. I don’t see what the problem is, I like him.” That had Santana looking at Rachel like she was fucking mental, and with a scoff and a shake of her head, Santana tried to recover from what felt like being hit in the head by a two by four. How could anyone like Sebastian? He was the Grim fucking Reaper, sucking the life out of everyone he came in contact with.

“Oh Christ, don’t ever let him hear you say that.”

“Will you behave?” Rachel asked, amused once more.

“I’m trying, but you make it so hard,” Santana whined petulantly.

“Are you done?”

“Yeah, now I am.”

“Good.” With a nod of her head, Rachel stepped back and wiped down her clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles. It always felt like she had to put herself back together after being that close to her roommate.

“Thanks for this,” Santana said, wiping down the wrinkles in her own clothes and shooting a thankful smile her way.

“You’re welcome.” Anything Rachel could do to make Santana smile was worth it, and she really hoped Santana would enjoy it.

“I kinda wanted to see your show,” Santana confessed with a shrug, figuring she could at least be open about it now. Rachel chuckled and nodded in return.

“I know.”

“You know?” What the hell did she mean she knew?

“Yeah, Quinn mentioned it when I asked and I thought that was actually a great idea-“ Rachel began, only to be cut off.

“I’m sorry, Quinn mentioned it?” Santana asked, hand out to the side as if to signal stop.

“Yes, she-“

“She’s fucking dead, that what she is,” she barked, glaring and shaking her head. It was only a matter of seconds before angry Spanish curses were being flung about, and Rachel wanted to put a stop to that.

“Santana!” she cried, laughing in shock and shaking her head at her roommate’s pissed off look.

“Rachel!” Santana cried back, knowing it resolved nothing.

“Stop it! You’re being mean!” It was not Quinn’s fault, as Rachel had actually gone to her to ask if the tickets were a good idea. So really, if Santana wanted to yell at anyone, it should be Rachel. Not that it’s ever stopped her before, of course.

“Am I mean to you?” Santana suddenly asked, her face going blank.

“I was going to say no, but then I saw that-“ Rachel pointed to the right and Santana turned, and scoffed when she saw the sign on the wall.

“Oh please, you love that,” she called, spinning back round.

“Uh huh, just like I love gonorrhoea,” Rachel deadpanned, making Santana gasp dramatically.

“Gosh, such scandalous words from you, Miss Berry!”

“You think you’re being cute but you’re failing miserably.”

“You’re lips are saying that, but your eyes, geez Rach, your eyes are saying something completely different,” Santana husked, running her fingers caressingly up her arm, pulling Rachel in. Just when Rachel thought this might be the right time to kiss her, Santana pulled back with a cheeky grin. “Thanks for the tickets! I’ll at least be kind enough not to kill Quinn before the show, that way there isn’t an empty seat. Later!”

Her roommate spun away from her and began walking back to her bedroom, leaving Rachel standing there flushed and riled up.

“You’re insufferable, and wrong!” she called up the hall.

“I’m right, and fucking charming! Don’t you forget it!” Santana yelled back, shutting her door on Rachel to cease any further communication.

Well, while that hadn’t quite gone to plan, Rachel couldn’t complain. Santana was coming to see her show, and that thought had her feeling giddy.

*0*0*

The night of the actual show was fucking stressful, in Santana’s opinion. Every one of her blasted friends wanted to meet at her apartment first as it was the shortest distance to the theatre or some crap like that. She would have said no, but they all brought booze for the party they were insisting on having after as thanks to Rachel for inviting them.

So with everyone in tow, they opted for a short cab ride to get them there, and then there was the stress of who was sitting next to whom. Santana was so not going to be near Warbler and Kurt as they drooled on the seats, and she was miffed at Quinn for opening her mouth, so she ended up nestled between Dave and Mercedes. That actually worked out alright.

When all was dealt with, and the show actually started, Santana kinda felt like she had been kicked in the face, in a good way, if that was possible. Her roommate was fucking amazing, like out of this world amazing. She deserved all the awards, all the accolades, and why the fuck was such a star living in her spare bedroom?

She dominated number and after number, and Santana found herself comparing Rachel with her cast mates, and reached the conclusion that none of them were better than her. She sold the fucking show, and they’d be a sinking ship without her. While maybe this wasn’t all actually true, Santana was convinced that was the case, and to the left of her, she could practically hear Kurt and Quinn plotting to prove her previous words wrong.

Hell, even she was embarrassed that she had said Rachel squawked when doing her vocal exercises. That bitch three floors down, it was all her fault. Because of her, she now looked like an idiot who had dissed her roommate’s epic singing skills.

She would need to make up for that. Later on tonight, she’d fix it.

By the time intermission came around, Kurt and Quinn were giggling and quoting her words back to her, making her want to punch them in the face. Dave was being his usual good guy self and distracting her, but she’d lost Mercedes to the dark side, who had joined in the abuse on her. She always knew Mercedes couldn’t be trusted. Her ties were too close to Quinn, she should have known better. Rookie mistake.

When the second half of the show came on, Santana went back into ‘trying hard not to drool over her roommate’ mode. It was hard not to fall head over heels in love with the girl, and she was convinced everyone left that theatre with a little bit of love for Rachel Berry. All the fame made sense, and the fans adoration for her was completely justified.

Once the show ended, the group began to gather their things and head for the exit. It was agreed that they’d loiter around until Rachel could join them, which they did happily in the bar across the street. It didn’t take too long, but by the time Rachel was ready to leave, at least three of their group was singing show tunes and declaring their undying love for someone. Fucking lightweights.

Santana had been drinking juice, in an attempt not to have a repeat performance of her last drunken escapade around the girl, and with her help, they wrangled everyone into taxis and got their asses back home. Within minutes of being in the door, Kurt had the music on, Mercedes was handing out glasses, Quinn was opening the booze, and toasts were being made.

It had been a really successful night, and the atmosphere was relaxed, but as more and more alcohol was poured and consumed, Santana knew she only had a limited amount of time before Rachel decided to jump on the bandwagon.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Santana asked, sliding herself up next to Rachel.

While the words were ominous, the pleased look on her roommate’s face had Rachel nodding and following Santana towards their bedrooms. Rather than head in one, she stopped just in the hall, still in sight of the living room, but far enough away to talk in private.

Santana made sure none of the others were watching before she grabbed Rachel’s hand and tugged her closer, silently wishing her friends had buggered off as she wanted her roommate all to herself, but knowing that wasn’t possible. If she even attempted to say as much to them, they’d probably think she was trying to sleep with the girl and those that were in line to lose the bet would insist on staying longer. Those bastards.

With Rachel’s full attention, Santana wrung her hands together and rolled her eyes at how nervous she felt. What was she, a pubescent boy talking to his crush? No way. She could easily say what she wanted to without freaking out. It wasn’t that hard.

“Okay,” she began, avoiding eye contact as best as possible. “So maybe you were kinda out of this world tonight, and that deaf bitch three floors down is totally getting her mail stolen because Christ, how the hell could she ever say you squawk? I don’t even think you could make that noise without it being in tune and perfect. You were awesome, and I seriously underestimated how good you actually were. But I mean, I live with you, shouldn’t I know you sound like a freaking angel? It just took me by surprise-”

“Is this you complimenting me?” Rachel interrupted, a slow smile having spread over her lips face as Santana rambled on and on. With the interruption, Santana looked up to gage Rachel’s reaction, and couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at her rambling words.

“Maybe,” she replied, unsure on how to proceed. She totally was, but she didn’t want to come right out and say as much. Thankfully, Rachel seemed to understand and patted her on the arm softly.

“So you enjoyed it then?” It was easier for her to cut to the chase, and for once she felt like cutting her roommate some slack.

“I loved it, but fuck, don’t tell them that,” Santana said, pointing over her shoulder at her friends in the living room.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“You really do have a beautiful voice, when it’s not telling me you broke my sinks, or whining at me to pick curtains or-“

“I get it, I sound good when I sing.” Santana nodded, and bit her lip, silently apologetic that she had been caught rambling again.

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s really nice to hear, especially from you,” Rachel replied, taking Santana’s hand a pulling her just a little bit closer so that her body was saddled up against hers.

The night had been good to them both, but the fact her roommate was praising her, complimenting her despite her own discomfort had Rachel’s heart fluttering. She knew Santana didn’t just throw out compliments like they were nothing, and the girl’s need to defend Rachel against the evil woman three floors down was rather charming.

With that in mind, Rachel licked her lips and glanced down at Santana’s. Recognition crossed Santana’s features a split second later, and she licked her own, grinning slightly as she did so. It was obvious what was to come next, and it wasn’t forced, wasn’t one sided, wasn’t in a need to shut the other up. Well, it hadn’t turned into that, yet.

“Once I kiss you, I’m not going to want to stop,” Santana whispered, her hand having come up to cup Rachel’s cheek as she neared closer. She leant her forehead on hers, a move they had begun to perfect with the other, and swallowed the nerves away.

“If that’s the case, then we need to kick your friends out,” Rachel replied, her hands now on Santana’s hips, biting her lip as she thought about where this could go.

Santana dropped her head back and groaned quietly at her words, fighting hard to stay in control. What was her roommate doing to her?

“You can’t say things like that to me,” she whined, returning to the previous position she was in. “We’re doing this properly, and that does not involve such suggestive words from you. I’m hanging on to my decency by a thread, don’t make it any harder.” It was a plea, a beg, one that had Rachel smiling wickedly at the thought.

“Decency, what decency? And will you just kiss me already?” she asked, growing impatient. So they’d save sex for another night, that was fine with her, but why hadn’t they kissed yet? It was definitely overdue.

“Can I kiss you again, afterwards? Or is this just a onetime thing?” Santana wondered, holding off again, and pulling her head back to see Rachel’s full reaction. It was one of confusion and then surprise.

“Are you really negotiating terms right now?”

“Have you seen your lips? Fucking hell, I’ve wanted to kiss you since you moved in, damn right I’m negotiating terms.” Santana rolled her eyes at the absurdity of Rachel’s question and waited on an answer.

“You’re ridiculous,” Rachel stated, shaking her head.

“You’re charmed.” There was that cheeky smirk Rachel was beginning to love and hate again.

“I am, I hate to admit that I am, but I’m also going insane. Kiss me,” she all but demanded.

“Is this a onetime thing?” Santana asked again, not giving up on this one. She needed to know. She needed to know whether she was going to have to control herself again or if she could get away with possibly kissing her roommate more frequently.

“That depends on how good this kiss is and how many more words you wish to waste debating over it,” Rachel ground out, her hands tugging at the fabric of Santana’s dress in annoyance. Why wasn’t her roommate kissing her already?

“Okay,” Santana replied, nodding.

“Okay?” she asked, checking if everything was fine again.

“Yeah, now shut up and let me kiss you.”

If Santana hadn’t moved in at that exact moment, Rachel was going to kick up a storm for her cheeky reply. Thankfully, she did move in, and her lips ghosted over hers, breathing in the air Rachel was breathing out, her eyes piercing hers, until finally, her lips pecked Rachel’s softly.

It was fleeting, but then Santana was back, kissing her properly. The hands on Santana’s hips moved up and wrapped around her neck, pulling her even closer. Rachel’s lips kissed hers back, catching her bottom lips between hers, moving in to kiss her again and again, all the while making a soft sighing noise and a slight whine in her throat for more.

Santana was lost to these kisses, unable to drag her lips away for more than a second before she was back for more. She couldn’t get enough, and somehow, she had managed to get Rachel’s back against the wall and her body pressing her into it. Her hand ran down Rachel’s neck, while the other gripped her hip and began to caress the bottom of her ribcage. She was being intoxicated with the feel of Rachel kissing her back, pulling her in, making it seem as if it would be criminal to stop.

It was the hollering and the cheering behind them that finally did it, and Santana pulled back, breathless, to see Rachel’s heady eyes looking right back at her. Her friends were fucking assholes for catching on to what they were up to, but at the same time, she owed them a thanks because if they weren’t there, her dress would have been on the floor by now and Rachel’s clothing would be following.

“So was it a onetime thing?” she asked, wondering what the verdict would be.

“No, definitely not,” Rachel replied, smiling into the next kiss she planted on Santana’s lips, making her smile in return.

Thank fucking God for that.

This time, when their friends began cheering in support, they ignored them, too caught up in the other to even contemplate pulling back again. If Santana could get away with kissing her roommate like this every day, she’d die happy.

*0*0*

 


	7. Infatuated Roommates

*0*0*

They’d kissed. They had actually kissed. Santana was still wrapping her head around it. She had kissed her roommate, her constantly destroying furniture, baking all the baked goods possible, singing every chance she got, and overly dramatic roommate. How did that even happen? How had she ended up here?

Despite the two of them agreeing before the kiss took place that it wouldn’t be a onetime thing, it had somehow turned into a onetime thing. They had kissed again that same evening, but only sparingly, and then not at all when their friends left. Kissing unsupervised felt like a bad idea, so they were avoiding it.

That’s how they ended up in their current predicament. Santana wanted Rachel, and she was pretty sure Rachel wanted her, too, but there was no boundaries right now. If Santana kissed her and Rachel dragged her to the bedroom, that would be it, and that was not how Santana wanted this to go.

She liked Rachel, a hell of a lot more than she’d liked anyone in a long time, and screwing each other before they were ready to take that step would ultimately screw them over. She wasn’t willing to risk it. She actually, god forbid she utter this aloud, she actually wanted to make this official. She wanted Rachel to be her girlfriend, which sounded so juvenile when said like that, but it was true.

But how, how could she even contemplate asking Rachel to be her girlfriend when she was too damn scared to approach the girl and kiss her again?

Sulking over that thought, Santana finished off her coffee, trying to be as quiet as possible as Rachel was still asleep, and grabbed a piece of paper to stick on the fridge. She needed to start bucking up, being bold, being brave, if she ever wanted the girl. No more pansying about.

_If you’re free, I’d love to meet you for lunch. Drop in around one?_

Beneath this, Santana scribbled the instructions for her office at work, and before she could regret her action, she tacked it on the fridge and grabbed her things to get out the apartment.

Santana didn’t even let herself think about the ramifications of her note until her class had finished and she found herself sitting in her office, looking over papers for the afternoon, and feeling the grumbling of her stomach in protest.

Three knocks on the door, one twist of the handle, and in walked in a shy and nervous Rachel, biting her lip. Santana stood, somehow surprised she had turned up, and waved her in. She was expecting her to cancel or something, so this was a good change. However, Santana hadn’t quite planned ahead of asking Rachel.

“Am I interrupting?” Rachel asked, closing the door behind her and seeing the stumped look on Santana.

“No, no, not at all,” Santana replied, waving her arm dismissively and standing up to greet her properly.

Advancing round the desk, Santana wasn’t sure if she should hug Rachel, kiss her or something, and instead, found Rachel taking the lead on that. She pulled Santana into a hug, but when it was over, she only moved her body back briefly, still holding onto Santana’s arm.

“Good, I’d hate to be bothering while you work,” Rachel answered.

“Nope, not bothering me at all. I’m glad you came. Very glad.” God, Santana, shut up. She sounded like a babbling schoolboy.

“Do your students normally come see you during lunch?” Rachel asked, her eyes flittering round the office to take it all in. When she’d read Santana’s note and seen the directions, she was elated that she was finally going to see where Santana worked exactly.

Rachel knew Santana was some kind of teacher, but according to the plaque on the door, she was a Professor, and that was new information. She couldn’t help but wonder why Santana had kept that part quiet, and then realised how foolish that was. She had kept her whole Broadway life a secret, so it made sense Santana had done something similar.

“No, they shouldn’t bother us,” Santana replied, unable to stop her fingers caressing the side of Rachel’s waist with them so close. She really had planned on stepping away by now, but Rachel’s hold on her wasn’t wavering.

“So no one will be requiring Professor Lopez’s help this lunch?” she asked, a sultry and husky hint to it.

The way she said it had Santana fumbling to reply, her brain short-circuiting and shutting down. There were too many innuendos to be made, and good heavens if hearing Rachel call her that wasn’t a turn on.

“They shouldn’t,” Santana croaked, shaking her head and deciding it was safer to flee than stay standing next to her.

Rachel smirked as Santana practically ran behind her desk for cover, and she filed away that important piece of information for when they were further along in whatever it was they were doing. Someone clearly had a fantasy, and gosh, Rachel was phenomenal at role-play. Hello, Broadway actress.

“So did you…lunch?” Santana asked, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, still unable to forget the mental image Rachel had inadvertently provided her with.

“Yes, lunch. Do you have somewhere in mind?”

“There’s a…there’s a place real close we could go to?” God, she needed to get a hold of herself. Could she ever play it cool in front of her, or was that just not possible?

“Great! Lead the way, Professor!” Ignoring the whimper she heard, Rachel entwined her arm with Santana’s once more and bit back her smirk.

After the lack of kisses since their first one, Rachel had been a little worried that Santana had changed her mind about seeing where this was going. She even briefly considered the notion that Santana wasn’t attracted to her at all, and that she thought she was a terrible kisser. But, by the dark look in Santana’s eyes and the way they would seek out Rachel’s lips and then glance over her body as they walked, Rachel knew she had nothing to worry about.

Maybe Santana just needed the two of them to take things slow. She could do that. Rachel could take things slow. Yes, she wanted to jump the woman, but she could find some self-restraint, somewhere.

And this impromptu lunch, this sweet gesture that was completely unnecessary that the two of them found themselves partaking in, it was another indication that both were still interested in the other. The kiss hadn’t freaked either of them out, and there was still hope that a relationship could be on the cards.

Thank God.

*0*0*

That Saturday afternoon, one week from their first kiss, and four days since they’d had a perfectly innocent lunch together, Santana found herself sitting in her living room contemplating death. When she had answered the door earlier, already having heard Rachel leave, she was not expecting Quinn and Kurt to be standing there. They each had bags in their hands, and the clinking of bottles as they raised them told her one thing; they’d come to get her drunk so they could gossip.

Somehow, and who knows why, but Santana had let them in. That’s how she was sitting there, watching as Kurt sipped on whatever cocktail concoction he’d created, and looking on as Quinn acted like a pretentious douche while swirling her wine in her glass. Santana had already downed her gin and tonic in desperation.

So far, they’d already laughed at her measly attempt to do ‘couple’ things with Rachel, the lunch, and were moving onto more pressing issues, like what Rachel and Santana got up to once everyone left them last weekend and if they had an official winner of the bet.

“We’ve not slept together!” Santana cried, looking round for a bottle of something to top up her glass with. It didn’t matter what it was. It was eleven in the morning and all social rules had gone out the window. Her life was a mess, she was going to start acting like one, too.

“You need to get on that,” Kurt mused, nodding his head and then twisting his face as he took another sip of his drink. It was a little too strong for his liking. He should have been more conservative with the alcohol. Well, he knew for the next one. He had all day to get it right.

“No, Santana, you should wait. You don’t want to rush things,” Quinn added, having already invested a good amount of money into this bet and not wanting to lose it all to Kurt of all people.

“I know, I know. I don’t want to rush things,” Santana agreed, fully aware that Quinn had her own reasons for encouraging Santana to take her time, but not caring either way.

“Would it be rushing things?” Kurt threw in, shooting Quinn a glare for encouraging Santana. Surely that was against the rules of the bet. She just smirked behind her wine glass and he wondered how many drinks it would take him to turn on her. “I mean, the two of you have kissed, things have surely moved on from there?”

His question piqued Quinn’s curiosity, too, and they both looked to Santana to hear about any other details and progress that might have been made since Saturday. The pursing of her lips and her lack of eye contact meant there had been nothing, and Quinn relaxed in relief, while Kurt sighed in defeat. He was counting on his friend to get laid to earn him some money, and she was letting him down, severely.

“Is she at least a good kisser?” he asked. If she was, he stood a chance of Santana falling weak and bedding the girl within the next month. The money would be his then.

Eyes on the prize.

“She looks like a good kisser,” Quinn mused, inadvertently pulling the attention to her.

Santana and Kurt both turned to stare at her, intrigued and curious as to why she said as such, and after the silence droned on for too long, Quinn looked up to see what the problem was. She was met with a smirk on Kurt’s face, and a frown on Santana’s.

“What is it?”

“She looks like a good kisser?” Santana repeated, her tone fierce. Snix was itching to be let loose, the alcohol having opened her cage and let her run free in Santana’s brain.

“She does. What’s wrong with that?” Quinn replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“Pray tell, Quinnie, do you wish to kiss Miss Berry?” Kurt asked, seeing his chance to extract revenge for her encouragement moments before. Turning Santana on Quinn like a rabid dog would ensure she never listened to another thing coming out her mouth, and he could be back in the game.

“What? No,” Quinn rushed out, frowning and looking at her wine glass. How many had she had? This felt like a dream. Was she that wasted she’d fallen asleep?

“Really?” Kurt prodded, his smirk growing by the second. It was sickening.

“Yes, really. What? I can’t say she looks like she’d be a good kisser without wanting to kiss her myself?”

“It’s just a bit suspicious, especially given how you never really were a fan of Santana living with her,” Kurt mused, rising his eyebrows and shrugging, with Santana watching on with a frown. God, she’d been too silent. It was freaking Quinn out.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Do you maybe have a crush on one Miss Berry?” Quinn was going to kill Kurt. She’d push him down the stairs on their way out and relish in any harm he received.

“No, and stop calling her that,” Quinn groaned, feeling like they were going round in circles. Just as she finished, Santana decided to speak up.

“Stay away from my girlfriend-“ she began to bark.

“Is she your girlfriend, though?” Kurt asked suddenly, spinning in his chair to look at Santana, thinking he had struck gold.  

“You’re not even dating her!” Quinn argued, happy to turn the teasing off of her and back onto someone else.

“Okay, one, she’s not my girlfriend, _yet_. I’m going to ask her. I will, I’ll ask her at some point. And two, totally the wrong answer, _Quinnie_. You should have said you weren’t interested in her,” Santana replied, crossing her arms over her chest and looking royally pissed off.

“You two are ridiculous,” Quinn muttered, downing her wine for relief.

“You’re in denial,” Kurt sang, loving this turn of events. Santana was still shooting her dirty looks and Quinn knew better than to mess with her in this mood. They never should have started drinking so early.

“I’m leaving,” she said, rising from the couch and grabbing her coat and bag, if only to save her hide from Santana’s ill placed wrath.

“That’s right, run away from the truth,” Kurt muttered, giggling his ass off as she rolled her eyes.

Before Quinn could take a step towards the door, however, keys began jingling in the lock and it opened.

“Oh hey guys!” Rachel chimed, coming in with bags laden in each arm, looking a little surprised to see both Quinn and Kurt present. “I brought lunch! Quinn, are you leaving?” she asked, noticing the girl holding her coat and bag.

“What? Oh. No, I’m staying.” Dropping her bag and coat onto the couch again, Quinn sat down and dropped her eyes from Rachel’s beaming smile.

“Great! I’ll get everyone plates!” Santana watched her roommate prance off into the kitchen and then turned to Quinn, pointing to her fiercely; she then ran her finger over her throat in a slitting motion. She was dead. She was so dead.

“So what’s that about you not having a crush on her?”  Kurt muttered, giggling again.

“Shut up,” Quinn barked, feeling like an idiot. She didn’t have a crush on Rachel, not at all. She was more worried about Santana living with a crazy person than anything else, and she only agreed to stay because she didn’t want to be rude. However, none of that mattered from the glare Santana was still shooting at her.

“Stay away from my soon to be girlfriend,” Santana whispered, shooting a look round to the kitchen in the hope Rachel couldn’t hear them.

“Oh please, like you’ll ever have the courage to ask her,” Quinn replied, rolling her eyes.

“You’re just jealous,” Santana shot back.

Kurt chuckled at the turmoil he had started and sipped more of his drink, enjoying the relaxed and sated feeling seep over his body. What an awesome day.

“Have you thought about how you’re going to ask her?” he asked, hearing Rachel humming and singing in the kitchen as she puttered about. He wanted to go help, but this question was of more importance in his mind.

“It might be too soon. I mean, we just kissed, right? I can’t exactly jump into things here. We live together, so if it goes south, we’re screwed,” Santana answered, biting her lip anxiously, feeling the unease and worries take over her mind again.

“I thought that was the idea, going south, getting screwed…” Kurt added, still thinking about the bet.

“What if she’s not ready to date me? Or fuck, what if she doesn’t want to?” Santana mumbled, running a hand through her hair, no longer trying to pretend like everything was dandy.

“You should find out,” Quinn supplied, just daring to join back in on the conversation.

“How?”

“Ask her,” she said simply.

“Ask- ask her? Are you fucking crazy?” It was Quinn she was asking, Santana already knew the answer to that. Yes, yes she was fucking crazy.

“Come on, how else are you meant to know?”

“I don’t know.” Santana shrugged and then was saved from saying anymore by the reappearance of Rachel.

“Normally I over order, so San can eat the leftovers, so thankfully there is enough,” she said, carrying a tray of food in bowls and cutlery.

Getting up to help, Santana headed into the kitchen and brought over the plates and a fresh glass for Rachel to use. All of it was placed on the coffee table, amongst the booze, and everyone set about putting some food in their systems to soak up the alcohol.

Flicking through the TV channels, they settled on some mind-numbing movie, and enjoyed the food without any more stressful talk, for which Santana was relieved. At least Quinn and Kurt knew when to cut it out and behave themselves. They could be trusted after all.

Once the food was done, Santana began clearing up the plates and taking everything back to the kitchen. She heard the sound of footsteps behind her, and we pleasantly surprised when Rachel planted her tray next to Santana’s on the counter.

Smiling at each other as they worked to put things in the dishwasher and wrap up left overs, Santana couldn’t stop from watching her roommate move around the kitchen. She was so at home, and yes, she lived there, but seeing her move like she belonged there really hit Santana. No matter what happened between them, she didn’t want to lose this, this easy and relaxing attitude between them.

Reaching out just as Rachel was about to head back into the living room, Santana took hold of her hand and tugged her back.

“Thanks for lunch,” she murmured, keeping her voice down just in case Kurt and Quinn were eavesdropping. Seeing the small smile on Rachel’s lips, Santana’s courage increased, and before she had a chance to over think it, she leant forward and kissed her, softly.

Rachel kissed her back, moving into the kiss while Santana pulled away, and then chuckled under her breath at the elation a simple kiss could bring her.  

“Figured I’d pay you back for Tuesday,” Rachel finally replied when her brain was back to working, blushing a little at the sign of affection, but happy for it nonetheless. Very happy for it, actually.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, just like you wanted to kiss me again.” Her eyes lit up as she spoke, and a smirk rose on her lips at her words. She had seen Santana eyeing her lips all week, but yet no kiss. Until now. “Next time, don’t over think it. I certainly won’t.”

To reaffirm her statement, Rachel tugged at Santana’s top to get her to step closer and then kissed her again, sure and certain. It was enough for a small whimper to escape Santana’s mouth and then Rachel was placing small pecks on her lips, bringing her back down.

“Come back and join us when you’re coherent,” she quipped, placing one final kiss on Santana’s lips, and then prancing out the kitchen.

Santana stood, routed to the spot, dazed and euphoric. The erratic beating of her heart, the heavy breaths, the warmth seeping through her and making her giddy, all of it was pointing to one conclusion in regards to her feelings about her roommate. But now wasn’t the time to think about it. She had to work out a way of asking Rachel to be her girlfriend, first.

Unless Rachel beat her to it, of course.

*0*0*

By the following Wednesday, Santana still hadn’t asked Rachel to be her girlfriend. Though, things had been incredibly busy at work, for both Rachel and herself, so it made sense to hold off until things had calmed down somewhat.

Given that things were a little more crazy, the two of them had struggled to spend time together. There was the odd hug and peck here and there when they saw one another, but it was rare. Santana missed it too much, missed Rachel far too much, and as she wanted her fix of the girl, she decided to stay up until Rachel arrived home.

In theory, that was a great idea, but in reality, Santana couldn’t fight the fatigue.

Rachel arrived home around her usual time and after shutting the door as quietly as possible, she turned to see the living room lamp on and a sleepy Santana sprawled out on the couch. It was such an endearing sight, and she had to fight the ‘Aww’ that wanted to escape, lest she wake her up.

Tiptoeing closer, Rachel shrugged her coat off and placed it on the empty chair, and then took a seat on the coffee table in front of Santana. She knew she was being a creeper by watching her roommate sleep, but this was the same roommate she was kissing and fantasizing about so surely it didn’t count.

Brushing hair away from Santana’s face, Rachel reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and placed it over her, hoping to keep her warm. Turning off the lamp and with one last look, Rachel kissed the tips of her fingers and then placed it on Santana’s cheek, not wanting to wake her.

She was rather enamoured with her roommate. This had not been her intention when moving in, but then again, by this point in her life, Rachel had thought she’d have herself a Tony, be married and probably have a kid. So yes, it was unexpected, but the best kind of unexpected.

Rising from her seat, she went into the kitchen to have a bit of a snack, feeling too awake to even contemplate sleeping. As quiet as she tried to be, the microwave buzzing and the sound of the fridge opening and closing were enough to rouse the sleeping figure in the living room. Rachel didn’t say anything, just let Santana wake up peacefully.

Only after several minutes of silence, and Rachel wondering if Santana had just snuck into her bedroom, did she turn to see where her roommate was. Standing in the doorframe, leaning against it was a very sleepy looking Santana.

“You can come in, you know,” Rachel teased, turning back around to finish mixing her pasta up.

It only took a moment but then Santana was standing behind her, her front pressed against her back, and Santana’s head falling into the crook of her neck as her arms wrapped round her waist. She chuckled in surprise but did not protest.

“Hi,” Santana whispered, feeling Rachel’s chuckle, and then planting a small kiss against her neck.

“Hi,” Rachel replied, smiling into her words and leaning back into Santana’s embrace. “Did I wake you?”

“Mmm nope.” It was an utter lie, but Rachel wasn’t going to argue. Her question had been to test how lucid Santana was, but her response told her nothing.

“Okay, as long as I didn’t wake you.” Thankful she had already fetched a fork, Rachel began munching on her food, happy to stay put in Santana’s embrace.

“ ‘ou neva,” Santana slurred sleepily, yawning against Rachel’s skin and burying her face further.

“If you’re tired, you should go to bed,” Rachel suggested. As much as she wanted Santana to stay there with her, she knew the woman had work early in the morning.

“No.” Another kiss to her neck, and Rachel took a shaky breath. Santana probably had no idea of the effect she was having on her.

“Did you have a good day?”

“Missed you,” Santana drawled, leaning against Rachel more, as if trying to find the optimal place to sleep standing up.

“I missed you, too.” She had no idea just how much.

The silence then rang on, and after chancing a few looks, Rachel concluded that yes, Santana was trying to go back to sleep. That would only lead to disaster if she was allowed, no doubt filled with her falling over or taking Rachel down with her.

“San, it’s bed time,” she whispered.

“Night night,” she replied, surprising Rachel with her quick response, and making her chuckle.

“Come on, we need to move.” Reaching for the hands wrapped round her waist, Rachel unhooked them and turned in Santana’s arms. She lifted her head with a scowl, cracking open one eye as she did so, until seeing Rachel’s neck and burying back in.

Seeing that she was in fact going to get no help from Santana herself, Rachel shuffled them through the apartment, reminiscing how sleepy Santana was much like drunk Santana. She couldn’t help but wonder how she would take that news when told about it tomorrow. Probably much like she did last time, with pure embarrassment.

Opening Santana’s bedroom door, Rachel saw that the floor was clear and then moved them on in. Santana moved with her like a ragdoll, the only sign she was still awake being the tight grip to Rachel’s waist. Thankfully, Santana had changed for bed before falling asleep on the couch earlier, therefore Rachel was saved from having to change her.

“Were you trying to wait up for me?” she mused as she sat her on the bed, sure that any questions she asked now would be unheard.

The nod Santana gave her made her smile, and pulling back the duvet, Rachel adjusted the pillows before moving to roll her into bed.

“I love these little moments,” Rachel confessed, seconds later.

“Hmm?”

“When you’re so out of it that you’re adorably vulnerable.” This night was definitely making it on her ‘Top Ten Moments with Santana’ list. Heck, it might even make it onto the ‘Five Reasons Why You’re Infatuated With Her’ list.

“M’not vulnerable,” Santana protested clearly affronted by Rachel’s words, frowning and shaking her head as she did so, her eyes still closed.

“Of course you’re not,” Rachel cooed, smiling as she did so. Santana was probably trying to appear angry and frightening, but she looked as scary as puppy.

“M’not!” she whined again, thumping her arm on the bed. Rachel tried not to make her laughter audible as Santana scooted in the bed and allowed the covers to be tucked over her.

“Go to sleep.”

“Only if you sleep too,” Santana added, burying in to her pillow.

“I’m going to bed now,” Rachel said to keep her happy.  She moved towards the door, flicked the light off, ready to go clean the mess she’d made in the kitchen, only to have Santana call out to her.

“Stay.”

“Stay?” Rachel knew better than to ask. Santana was clearly out of it, half-asleep and dopey. Anything she said couldn’t be taken seriously, despite how much she wished so.

“Yeah, just stay. Cuddle,” Santana went on to add, waving her arm to bring Rachel back over. She was powerless to fight it, and a part of her really did want to stay.

“You sure?” This felt like a big step, but Santana didn’t seem bothered in the least by it.

“M’sure.”

Slipping out of the heavy clothes she was wearing, and slipping her bra off from under her sleeves, Rachel kept on her t-shirt and moved round the other side of the bed. Santana rolled with her movements, and tugged the covers out the way for her to crawl in. Maybe she was more alert than Rachel first thought.

Regardless, Rachel slipped in the bed, biting back the squeal from the cold sheets, and shuffled closer to the only heat in the bed. Santana seemed to have the same idea, as her hands reached out and she tugged Rachel closer, tucking her into her arms and holding her.

“This okay?” Santana asked, peeking one open to check. The content smile she saw on Rachel’s lips was enough for her to close it again and hold her closer.

“Yeah, this is good,” Rachel replied, burying into the heat and the scent of Santana.

“Good.”

“Goodnight, San.”

“Night, Rach.” Feeling a soft kiss to the crown of her head, Rachel smiled and let her hand rest on Santana’s hip.

Comfortable and content, the two of them calmed any racing thoughts, thumping heartbeats, shaky breaths, and joined the other in blissful sleep. The last thought to cross both their minds was that come the week ahead, they would need to make this official. No more dancing around what they were. They wanted to be together.

Simple as that.

*0*0*


	8. Roommates Surprise

Waking up with another body in the bed was something Santana had not been expecting. In fact, it took her several minutes to recall whether or not she’d taken up that undergraduate’s offer for dinner. The ruffled hair and the slender body facing away from her didn’t actually give any clues away, but then the night’s events came back in her sleep induced haze.

Rachel, it was Rachel lying next to her, wrapped up in her covers, in her bed. God, that thought was appealing. But then the embarrassment from last night set in. She’d been drunk on fatigue, whining and being needy, super affectionate and honest. Thank God Rachel hadn’t taken advantage of that situation and asked her anything too risqué. She would have been an open book.

Santana took a quick look at her clock and saw it was still reasonably early, and thanking her lucky stars that it was a Saturday, before deciding she could just stay in bed with Rachel until the girl awoke. However, she needed to relieve her bladder, first. Getting up as quietly as possible, Santana snuck out the room and headed to the bathroom. After going to the toilet and brushing her teeth, she retreated back to the bed, only to find it empty. Huh. Looking round, she heard Rachel coming out her bedroom, and then the girl tiptoed back in to join her.

“Oh…oops. I thought I’d make it back in time before you,” she said, biting her bottom lip.

“You were going to sneak back into the bed?” Santana asked, amused.

“Maybe.” The shy smile on her lips was evidence enough, and Santana chuckled.

“Do you have a show today, or just this evening?”

“Just this evening.”

With that being the deciding factor, Santana took Rachel’s hand and led her back towards the bed, tugging her up over the covers, and then helping her crawl back in. The other girl chuckled throughout and was smiling brightly once they were tucked up back in bed. Thank God for Saturdays.

“Hi,” Rachel whispered, feeling Santana’s hands seeking out her waist.

“Hi,” she replied, smiling back, coming almost nose to nose with her roommate. “Thank you for staying with me last night, and for putting up with my whining and tired self.”

“Ah, so you do remember last night?” Rachel teased, her hand taking Santana’s to play with her fingers.

“I do, and I would apologise for it, but something tells me that you rather liked it.”

“Well, you’d be correct in assuming that. I definitely liked you like that. It’s nice to see you without your hardened exterior.”

“Pft, hardened exterior, what are you talking-“

“Uh huh,” Rachel hummed, smirking. “ _This_ hardened exterior, the one that has you apologising for even acting just slightly like yourself. Don’t think I don’t know that you keep your cards close to your chest, and hate being vulnerable, or appearing vulnerable. And last night, last night you definitely thought yourself to be vulnerable.”

Santana felt the urge to crawl away, to put some distance between Rachel and her, but knew that was exactly what Rachel probably expected her to do, if the hand squeeze she received was any indication. Coming to the realisation that her roommate knew her too well, she sunk back into the pillows and sighed under her breath.

“I’m expecting you to bolt from the bed,” Rachel whispered, moving a little closer, causing Santana to roll her eyes.

“So was I, but…but with you…I guess I don’t want to run away,” she admitted, and just seeing Rachel’s eyes light up from her words had her mentally patting herself on the back. “You’re kind of…I don’t know…you’re just really easy to be around.” Rachel licked her lips and Santana found herself doing the same, edging that little bit closer, feeling Rachel’s legs entangle with hers as she reached out carefully and cupped her cheek.

“Santana, I just…I want…”Rachel wasn’t sure how to say it. She wanted to verbalise her feelings for the other woman, but she didn’t know how to go about it. There was this deep connection, this pull, honing her affections in on her roommate, but she wasn’t sure how to even say that she wanted them to be together, that she wanted them to be more than just roommates who went on dates now and then.

“I know,” Santana murmured, feeling her resolve weaken as she closed the distances. Kissing Rachel firmly, brushing her lips against hers quickly, and with an urgency she hadn’t experienced in so long. Santana knew that Rachel wanted her, that much was clear in her eyes. Though, at that point, she only assumed Rachel was confessing to wanting her physically, not more than that, and given how their physical relationship had been waning as of late, with a few kisses now and then, this seemed to be the obvious direction they’d be going in.

Kissing Santana back, Rachel whimpered and ran her hands up into Santana’s hair, tugging at the adorable, and completely sexy, bedhead she was sporting. Then she found herself sliding onto her back, pulling Santana over her body, sinking her hips into Rachel’s, earning a loud moan and increasing the frantic pace of their kisses. Santana’s teeth sunk into Rachel’s bottom lip, and she followed it up by a swipe of her tongue, teasing her lips, revelling in the sounds Rachel was making beneath her like they were gospel.

Rachel’s hands descended from her hair, running down her back, toying underneath the back of her sleep shirt, gently caressing the skin of her lower back and hips, before trailing back up. The movement had gooseflesh breaking out across Santana’s skin as she continued to lavish the girl with kisses, letting out the occasionally throaty moan and whimper from her touch. That had Rachel smirking into the kisses, soaking up the knowledge that she could bring this woman to whimpering from her affections.

Only when Rachel’s hands slipped under the waistband of Santana’s underwear, caressing the skin just there, did Santana feel the fire in her body kick up a notch. She was ablaze with need, with desire, and it was all for Rachel. This girl, the very one who she’d been checking out since she moved in, fantasizing about kissing, about touching, she was now bucking up into her body, hands teasing her, and kissing her like no other.

“God, I want you,” Santana husked, her kisses having diverted from her lips, down Rachel’s neck, swiping her tongue over the skin and listening to her breathy gasps and pants.

“I do, too- but- ugh- Santana, we should stop,” Rachel rasped out, her words contradicting the undulating of her hips underneath Santana’s body.

“Really, you want to stop?” she asked, disbelieving that completely.

“We need- we need to- this- this isn’t right-“

“It feels so right,” Santana interjected, cutting Rachel off with her lips and feeling the heat rise within them.

They were going to have to put the brakes on now if they had any intention of stopping, because Santana could shower away the pulling throb between her legs, but if they went on, only to stop further down this road, she’d be taking care of herself regardless if Rachel was in the room or not.

Jesus, it had been so long since she’d had sex, and now here she was in bed with Rachel, and good lord, if this wasn’t some form of torture.

“Stopping, we’re stopping,” Rachel panted, and Santana quickly pushed off the other girl, rolling onto her back next to her on the bed, fighting to catch her breath back, hoping the sharp inhaling would cool her down somewhat.

“Sor-“

“Don’t,” Rachel interrupted, gripping Santana’s hand. “I don’t regret it, I actually loved it, but we can’t have sex, not yet.”

Santana wanted to ask when they could have sex, but that sounded completely unreasonable, and she wasn’t going to risk asking. Accepting Rachel’s words, Santana took the hand that was in hers and kissed the back of it.

“We should get up off this bed,” she murmured, not trusting her body to stay calm with Rachel lying next to her like that. Even the mental image was enough to have her gripping the sheet in need. She needed to shower, right away.

“Agreed,” Rachel replied, sitting up and tugging Santana up with her.

The two of them crawled out of bed, and with a quick peck to the lips, both of them headed towards their respective bathrooms. They’d need to fill the day with things other than leisurely kisses and touches, otherwise they were going to end right back where they started; panting in bed next to each other.

*0*0*

The following week, Santana awoke early to head to work. She had a morning lecture, and then she was off for the rest of the day. Knowing that she’d be able to see Rachel before her show put a skip in her step, and she headed out towards the kitchen, knowing that she had some time before needing to head off.

Her roommate was nowhere to be found, and Santana suspected the girl was still asleep, so set about putting her laptop up and checking her work email while brewing coffee. Flicking on the TV, she left it on whatever mind numbing channel it had been on previously, and moved about the kitchen, looking for breakfast. It was then that she spotted a tin with a note on top sitting next to the blender. Peeking into the hallway, she fully expected Rachel to just appear out of thin air to tell her off for wanting to eat cookies for breakfast, but that didn’t happen. Thinking that gave her the green light, Santana moved over to inspect the tin closer, and read the note on top.

_Please enjoy these at acceptable times of the day. You know what that means, Santana. Not first thing in the morning, or before dinner!_

Rolling her eyes, she flipped the lid off and ignored the note as her hand dove into the tin.

“What are you doing?” Rachel suddenly asked, her voice scaring the shit out of Santana. She turned round abruptly, realising that yes, she had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“You made cookies!” Santana cheered, trying to play innocent, causing Rachel to now roll her eyes.

“I made cookies,” she repeated, nodding. “I hope that was okay.”

“It was more than okay. I’ve missed these,” Santana murmured, patting the side of the tin.

“Were you, were you thinking of having one, San?” Rachel asked, now trying to be the innocent one.

“No! Absolutely not. I was merely inspecting what type of cookies you had made,” she fibbed and Rachel smirked while moving closer.

“You’re such a bad liar,” she stated, picking up a cookie and then taking the tin from her hands. Santana felt ashamed to admit that her grip tightened when Rachel made to move it away. “Enjoy this cookie, cause it’s the only one you’re getting until tonight.”

Santana grinned as she accepted said cookie, and kissed Rachel’s cheek.

“Thanks, darling,” Santana purred, taking a bite as she moved off into the living room.

Moaning obscenely, Santana closed her eyes and enjoyed the goodness that was Rachel’s baking as she took a seat, and was oblivious to her roommate having followed her. Watching the sight with rapture, Rachel licker her lips and felt her throat become dry, swallowing to relieve that symptom, as the temperature rose drastically. Was the heating on or something?

Whatever, Santana should not be allowed to make such noises this early in the morning. It was highly unacceptable. And all it did was remind Rachel of what she’d put a stop to only days ago. The memory of them in Santana’s bed, of her hands on her body, had her flushing, and she knew that if she had any hope of refraining from tackling her roommate with kisses, she was going to have to vacate the area.

“I’m going in the shower!” Rachel called, waving before making her way towards her room, tin in hand.

“I’ll be back early,” Santana said, seeing her roommate dash away from her. That was odd, but then again, it was Rachel.

Checking her email, Santana set to work sorting through everything so she had very little to do when she got to her office. The sooner she did it all, the sooner she could come home and see Rachel before her show. Finishing off the cookie, she sipped her coffee and looked round for more, but couldn’t see the tin in sight. Of course, trust Rachel to hide the damn thing from her.

There’d be revenge for that later.

*0*0*

Santana’s lecture went well, and the work she had done earlier in the morning helped her get out of there quicker than she thought possible. All this meant there was plenty time for her to get home to see her girl. Well, okay, not her girl, but maybe soon to be her girl. She really needed to talk to Rachel about what they were. Santana knew that she wanted to ask her to be her girlfriend, but that felt like such a juvenile thing to say.

Shrugging that thought off for another time, Santana opened her apartment door and wandered on in. The place was quiet as she dumped her things down on the desk, and slinking off her suit jacket, she ran a hand through her hair, kicking off her heels as she went, and headed into the kitchen.

It was then, with her standing in the doorway, that her mouth fell open and she whimpered involuntarily, for the sight before her was so magnificent and unbelieving, she was convinced it was a dream.

It wasn’t.

Rachel, smirking quite sinfully, was sitting on the counter, legs crossed, negligee high on her thighs, heels on, and her hair was falling over her shoulders. This…this was very unexpected.

“What…what?” Santana squeaked. Her brain couldn’t quite function.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Rachel answered, her smirk faltering slightly as she bit her bottom lip.

“This…this is a surprise. Holy crap this is a surprise.” Best surprise ever. Absolute best surprise ever.

“Are you actually going to come over here?” Rachel teased, wiping her hands down the front of her body to remove the creases.

“I don’t know…I mean…can I? Is this…?” Santana struggled to form coherent sentences, swallowing anxiously, lust shooting up her spine from the way Rachel’s hands ran down her body, and it was amazing she hadn’t dropped to her knees whimpering.

“Just get your ass over here and kiss me,” Rachel practically demanded, before she allowed herself to feel silly at having set this up. In theory, it seemed like a good idea. Surprise roommate and ask her to be one’s girlfriend before having sex, yes, exactly what she was going for. But with Santana standing all the way over there, just looking at her, she was unsure. Though, that fear only lasted a moment.

“Done.” Santana didn’t need any more encouragement and strode across the kitchen, coming to stand in between Rachel’s legs, her hands landing on her waist, pulling her to edge of the counter, bumping her against her body. “What’s the special occasion?” she husked, unable to hide the lust in her voice, her eyes mapping all available skin, and coming to rest on the heady gaze directed at her.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, and I want you, so badly.” Kissing Santana hard, Rachel pulled back, allowing Santana to take a deep breath, before resting her forehead on hers, and cupping her face in her hands. “We’re both adults, we can both decide whether this, us, is a mistake, and it’s not, I want this with you. No more waiting, so let’s just go with it.”

Santana was powerless to stop herself from nodding along in agreement. Little did she know, Rachel had intended on going on to say that they should be together, that they should officially date exclusively, but her words were cut off, and then thrown to the wayside, by Santana’s piercing kiss and wandering hands.

Rachel didn’t want to stop the sensation of Santana’s lips against hers, her tongue meeting her own, licking her bottom lip, her teeth nipping at it, as her hands caressed down her waist, down her thighs, and then back up again. She couldn’t stop that. They could talk later, after, as long as this overwhelming need to have each other was dealt with first.

Growing bold, Rachel found Santana’s hand and placed it up on her chest, whimpering as Santana took over and followed her direction, gently squeezing and caressing her through the fabric, her kisses straying from her lips and down her neck. She was panting and bucking her hips, having wrapped her legs around Santana’s waist, her own hands frantically trying to undo the buttons on Santana’s shirt, when she felt Santana’s tongue trace the top of the negligee, causing her head to drop back with a moan.

“I want this off,” Santana husked, tweaking the fabric between her fingers. “Can I please take this off?” she panted, needing to see the flesh she was feeling, needing to kiss it, lick it, bite it, and taste it.

Rachel wholeheartedly agreed with Santana’s requested, and nodding quickly, whining a yes, her arms slipping the straps over her shoulders and bringing it down, off her arms and down her body to pool at her hips. Santana’s appreciative groan and a thrust forward into Rachel’s hips was enough for her eyes to close tightly with need.

Santana was almost star-struck by the sight before her, and she was whimpering with how much she wanted this woman. Her skin looked so soft to the touch, and as her fingers gently caressed the side of her rib cage, she found her assessment to be correct. Feeling the chill of the apartment, and the touch of Santana causing gooseflesh, Rachel opened her eyes to see why they had stopped. She couldn’t help but feel insecure in front of Santana, which was ridiculous, but her opinion of her mattered, and now she was worried about it.

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen boobs before,” she whispered, lifting her hand to caress the side of Santana’s cheek. She hummed and shook her head, leaning into the touch.

“I’ve never seen your boobs before.” And how fantastic they were.

“You should have seen me in Spring Awakening,” Rachel murmured, causing Santana to frown.

“What?” She was still bewitched, and while she knew she was having a conversation with Rachel, her eyes were glued to her chest, with her fingertips slowly making their way upwards to caress the skin there.

“I did a topless scene,” she explained, her breath catching with each stroke of Santana’s hands on her body. It was a delicious method of teasing, she found.

“You did?”

“Yeah. You should have a look on YouTube, there’s a video out there of it.” Rachel had been mortified to find that someone had filmed it, but only because her fathers had to endure such links whenever they searched for news on their little girl.

“There’s a video?” On one hand, Santana was glad she hadn’t searched the internet so thoroughly for Rachel, as she didn’t want to be a lecherous creep, but on the other hand, she wished she had been prepared for this sight before her now. Then, maybe she wouldn’t act like this was her first rodeo.

“Yep.”

“Spring Awakening, did you say?” That was ringing bells for Santana, though she couldn’t work out why. She had never seen the show. Someone else had, though.

“Uh huh,” Rachel murmured, beginning to squirm under Santana’s fingers as they moved further and further upwards.

With her words, it finally clicked in Santana’s mind, and she fought Snix’s violent outburst, putting her back in her cage, before planting her lips on Rachel’s neck, sucking softly at the skin so she didn’t’ leave a mark.

“I’m going to kill Quinn,” she growled, making Rachel frown.

“What?” she asked, convinced she must have heard wrong.

“Never mind.” Santana was done with the conversation, and she’d teased enough, prepared enough. Rachel went to open her eyes and pull Santana back, so she could fully understand what had just been said, because she felt like she was missing something, but she never got the chance.

In the next moment, her eyes were squeezed shut as Santana cut to the chase and her mouth descended on Rachel’s breasts. Her tongue, her tongue was absolutely magnificent, that was all Rachel could think with each swirl, each flick, each teasing caress of it against her skin. Her hips continued to move, grinding into Santana’s body, practically begging her to pay more attention to them with that tongue of hers, when she heard a sound she definitely shouldn’t have been hearing.

Keys were jingling in the lock, and then the apartment door opened, with hushed voices were whispering. Rachel’s eyes shot open and she looked  up, horrified that someone with keys, most likely Kurt, was going to interrupt them at this time. Santana, meanwhile, was too caught up in worshipping the body underneath her lips to have heard anything going on around her.

“Kurt, now is not the time, so get your things and turn right back around,” Rachel called out, her hands tugging Santana back up her body.

Kurt, what the hell was Kurt doing here? Santana frowned and made to turn, only to freeze at the sound of more than just Kurt.

“Surprise!” two voices shouted, their footsteps stopping at the kitchen door, and then their words dying out a strangled death. Rachel squealed, horrified, and made to cover herself, pulling up the negligee and reaching to hold Santana exactly where she was, only dropping her legs from around her waist.

 “Oh my gosh, Dad, Daddy! What- What are you doing here?!” she asked, and Santana’s eyes bugged out, looking to her frantically.

“Holy crap,” Kurt cursed, shielding his eyes from so much more skin than her ever wanted to see. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried, waving his free hand up in apology.

“We came to surprise you, but it seems we should have warned you first,” Rachel’s father answered, both men were admiring the ceiling so they wouldn’t have to witness their daughter in such attire. “I think we’ll just go wait in the living room.”

Santana stood deadly still, fear creeping up her spine, descending down every nerve in her body and making her feel positively dreadful. Had that actually just happened? Had they really just been walked in on? What the fuck was going on?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I met them in the elevator, and since they were hear to surprise you, I thought I’d just let them in!”

“What were you coming here for anyway?” Santana barked, finally finding the energy to move and spinning round to kick his ass for this interruption.

“Excuse me for thinking you’d want some company today and coming over, with wine,” he sassed, crossing his arms.

As the two of them bickered, Rachel slipped off the counter and placed herself between them, a calming hand on Santana’s arm. They couldn’t have this argument right now, not with her fathers in the next room. They’d need to save it for another time, when they weren’t being listened to, and when she was actually dressed.

“Kurt, we appreciate you coming over, and thank you for letting my fathers in, but perhaps you could come back another time?”

Yeah, he didn’t want to be around for the conversation that was going to follow. While it was fun to watch Santana suffer, it wasn’t fun when Rachel was there to placate her at every turn. Taking his leave, he said his goodbye to the two of them before wishing Santana good luck, she was so going to need it, and headed off into the living room.

“Leave the wine!” Santana grunted after him, receiving an eye roll from Rachel. What? She at least deserved something from his ill-timed arrival. The wine would suffice for now.

Kurt couldn’t help but smirk as he walked out the door, thinking of one plus to this little interruption. There was no way the two of them would be having sex any time soon, and that meant he was still in with a chance to win the bet. Suck on that one, Quinn!

The two of them listened to Kurt say goodbye to Rachel’s fathers and gave each other wincing looks. With him on his way out, there wasn’t going to be any more distractions to keep them in the kitchen. They were going to have to face the music, something Santana didn’t want to do at all. This was absolutely mortifying.

“Alright, I’m going to go get dressed. I suggest that you offer them something to drink,” Rachel said, ready to take charge of this situation.

“Okay, I can do that.” Santana could. She could be charming and brilliant and she could get them something to drink.

Heading into the living room, with the metaphorical tail between her legs, Santana practically used Rachel’s body as a human shield to keep the distance between the men and her. Seeing them up close now had her swallowing anxiously, listening as Rachel explained that she was going to put some clothes on and would be out in a minute.

Being the good hostess that she was, Santana briefly introduced herself, accepting the firm and strong handshakes of bother Leroy and Hiram Berry, before asking if they’d like some tea or coffee. Yes to both, and back in to the kitchen she was allowed to retreat. Thank god for that.

Rachel must have changed at wicked fast speeds because only a few moments later, she was back in the kitchen with Santana, helping to make the coffee and tea, and asking if Santana was okay. Her question was unnerving. Why wouldn’t she have been okay? Was there reason for her to worry? Should she have been more concerned with the men next door? And that reminded her.

“You have two dads?” she asked quietly, not wanting to alert the men that she was talking about them.

“Yes,” Rachel answered proudly, squaring herself up for this conversation. She was so used to people having a problem with it, though she would have been shocked if Santana was one of those people. However, she needed to check. This actually could be a make or break situation for them. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Santana looked positively shocked by the question and floundered to respond, shaking her head wildly. Of course she didn’t have a problem with that, but the shock of their arrival and how Rachel had never once mentioned it hadn’t quite settled yet, so she was curious.

“No, of course not, but now their voice constantly fluctuating every phone call makes a lot of sense. I thought you dad had some throat illness,” she answered, rubbing her forehead to ease the impending headache.

“You didn’t realise they were two different people?” Rachel asked, fighting a laugh. Santana’s frown increased and a pout formed on her lips.

“No more talking from you. What are they doing here?” Spinning back to the coffee maker, she poured the drinks while letting Rachel take care of the tea.

“They came to surprise me. They knew I had a few days off from my show, and they wanted to spend it with me.”

“You have a few days off?” That was news to her, and a sudden pang of pain at not being told shot through her system. Rachel must have seen it, because she was quick to reply, to explain, to cover her bases.

“Yeah, the theatre is having to repair the electrics. I was…I was hoping to spend my days off with you but…” Rachel glanced towards the living room where her fathers were talking. She could hear them discussing how amazing the coffee table looked, and despite how much she wanted to run out and agree with them completely, she stayed put to talk to Santana.

“Oh,” Santana murmured, not wanting to be rude about Rachel’s parents being there, but feeling a little disheartened about not being able to spend those days off with her.

“Yeah, oh,” Rachel replied, glancing down to the floor, watching the dejected look of Santana’s face and wondering just how much time her father’s would require of her.

“Well, this is will be good for you. You get to spend time with your dads, and I’m working anyway, so I wouldn’t have been around a lot,” she said, trying to put on a happy smile. She didn’t want to put a downer on her roommate’s parents visit before it had really begun.

Rachel could see exactly what Santana was trying to do for her, and she sent her a thankful smile for being so sweet enough to care. This way, the pressure was off Rachel, ensuring that she didn’t feel guilty for spending time with her fathers. And she knew that Santana’s excuse wasn’t wholly correct, as the woman didn’t have as many lectures on those days, and usually found herself alone while waiting for Rachel to come back from the theatre. However, the gesture was there, and at some point in the future, Rachel would make it up to Santana for trying to hide her disappointment.

“Shall we head back?” Santana said, pointing over her shoulder towards the living room.

“Yes, let’s.” Rachel nodded and just before they were about to move away, she leant over a gave Santana a soft peck on the lips. Given their earlier actions, it was entirely innocent, and rather sweet.

Feeling the boost of confidence from such a simple kiss, Santana put a smile on her lips and headed next door, beverages in hand, where they were quickly distributed out. Taking a seat, they all settled into the living room, and Rachel filled the silence by asking them about their journey, and how long they planned on staying. It was enough to get the ball rolling, and enough to ease some of the nerves Santana could feel sneaking up her spine.

“Oh, I have cookies,” Rachel suddenly declared, turning back around to head into the kitchen. If Santana hadn’t been so enamoured with the girl she would have shot her a dirty look for abandoning her with her fathers, both who seemed particularly pleased to have their daughter’s roommate alone with them.

“Santana,” Hiram began, smiling at her. There was more to that smile than what met the eye, but she smiled back, hoping to keep this light and easy for as long as possible. “How long have you stayed here? Rachel mentioned that you actually own the apartment, which is quite a purchase in itself.”

The last thing she wanted to talk about was Brittany, but that seemed to be the direction this conversation was going in, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Sucking it up, she took a deep breath and then began to explain when she bought the place, being evasive enough to leave out the blonde ex throughout her answer.

The men eyed her suspiciously, and nodded, which she didn’t take as a good sign. They clearly knew more than met the eye, and Santana was going to have to ask Rachel just how much she knew about her ex. No doubt Quinn and Kurt had filled in all the details, because she certainly hadn’t been forthcoming with those details.

Shooting a glance in the direction of the kitchen, which did not go unnoticed, Santana couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was taking Rachel so long. All she had to do was plate the cookies, literally move the cookies from their bowl and put them on a plate, how hard was that?

“So, Rachel hasn’t kept us informed. How long have you two been dating?” Leroy asked, and Santana heard a clatter from the kitchen, and she could just imagine her roommate’s face upon hearing her father’s question.

“Oh…” Santana began, fully prepared to explain that they weren’t, but hoping she didn’t have to. The earlier incident they had been caught in suggested informing them of that simple detail probably wouldn’t go down well. Maybe she could lie. That sounded safer.

“Eh…daddy, Santana and I aren’t actually dating-“ Rachel answered, sweeping back into the room like Betty freaking Crocker with an apron on, for god only knows what reason, and cookies in hand.

“You’re not?” Hiram asked, accepting a cookie from his daughter.

“No-“

“So do you regularly sit half naked on your kitchen counter and engage in wild make out sessions with people you’re not dating?” Rachel blushed under the question, and shot a look of help to Santana. That was completely pointless, because she was bricking it.

Santana paled as the two men turned to her, and she gulped under their gazes. Rachel was meanwhile floundering to come up with some kind of explanation to keep them off of Santana’s back. The last thing she needed was them scaring her off before they could officially be together. Really, what were her dads playing at?

“Dad, daddy, I really don’t think that’s a topic for tonight,” she began, and Santana shot her a relieved look as she handed her the plate of cookies. Finally something Santana could put in her mouth besides her foot, which she was sure would happen at some point. “Why don’t you tell us about what you want to do with your time in the city?”

“I don’t think Santana will want to hear about that,” Hiram said, turning to his husband. “Do you, Leroy?”

“Oh no, I don’t think she will,” he agreed, smiling politely as he turned back to them.

“Actually-“ Santana began, hoping to force the topic, and begging that Rachel would come to her aid again.

“No, I think we should get to know Santana. After all, we’re only here a few days, and this is the woman you live with,” Hiram finished, cutting Santana off. Rachel winced, knowing exactly what her fathers were up to, and Santana realised that this was why she never got herself involved in serious relationships.

With Brittany, they had already known each other for years, and her parents loved Santana. They had nothing to worry about. It was a close relationship, with no pressure and stress from the parents. Santana had never had to endure the ‘talk with her partner’s parents’ and she had regularly laughed in the faces of those she had. But now, now she was sitting there shitting bricks from the looks of these men, and she regretted ever having underestimating how scary this situation was.

Quinn and Kurt were going to have a field day when they found out.

“So, Santana, what do you do for a living?”

“Daddy, one’s profession is not an indication of one’s personality,” Rachel said, finally taking a seat next to Santana. Already, that seemed like the wrong move as the men narrowed their eyes.

“Rachel is correct, but it does give a good indication of what her passions are, so please, Santana. What do you do?” he repeated.

“I…” Never before had she felt so unsure about her career, which was foolish because she actually had a pretty good career. “I’m a professor. I work in the College of Arts and Science at NYU.”

“What does that entail exactly?”

“Arts, it’s the arts, daddy,” Rachel interjected, patting Santana’s arm proudly. She had only just found out what exactly Santana taught a few days ago, but she beamed when she was told, or rather, when Santana explained.

It felt like destiny for Rachel. There she was, acting out and living a life of the arts, surrounded by music, dance, film, and acting, and there Santana was, having spent years studying literature, music, art, philosophy, classics and writing. She always knew she would end up with someone who shared her passions, she just never expected it to be in the form of a lecturer of the arts, rather than someone who lived out the arts.

Her life was fool of surprises.

Hiram and Leroy quickly jumped onto that topic and started drilling Santana some more, only to find that her answers were almost always competent to meet the markers they had for their little girl, and when her answers fell short, Rachel was all too happy to jump in and save the day. Clearly, she wanted them to like this woman, and with that on their minds, it became easier to forget about what they’d first walked in on.

After the subject of work, which Santana was all too happy to leave behind, they moved onto the apartment. Once again, they admired the coffee table, and Rachel finally got her chance to agree wholeheartedly with their assessment. It really was a fabulous piece of furniture. Next, Rachel went on to explain what she’d added since her arrival, and her fathers were all too happy to give their own decorating tips. Now Santana knew where her roommate got her vibrant taste for mixing things up a bit. Thank God the men weren’t staying longer, or Santana wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on when it came to vetoing the dining room table Rachel so desperately sought after. The men were definitely persuasive.

As the even progressed, somehow the four of them ended up cooking in the kitchen, using a variety of Santana’s leftover take away, and Rachel’s freshly baked meals to create an elaborate array of food. With the food, alcohol was welcomed into the mix, and Santana couldn’t have been more thankful when they brought out the wine, briefly murmuring thanks to Kurt for bringing that over.

It seemed, the Berry men were actually rather lovely when they weren’t giving Santana the third degree for feeling up their daughter, and by the time they were headed off to their hotel, Santana found that she sort of liked them. Then again, she shouldn’t have been surprised. They raised the girl she was hopelessly hung up on, so those characteristics she admired and adored had to come from somewhere.

Once gone, Rachel and Santana cleaned up what was left of dinner, and glancing at the clock, seeing it was just after eleven, both decided it was time for bed. Their earlier plans to kick up their physical relationship was put on hold, and with a quick kiss, both hugged each other goodnight and retreated into their own rooms.

*0*0*

The following day found Santana in her apartment with Quinn on one couch, Kurt on the other, each holding some form of alcoholic beverage, and Kurt was  explaining what he’d walked in on yesterday. He was being dramatic and over the top, everything Santana was used to, but rather than bitch him out, she held her box of wine closer, and took another drink.

Only when he got to the part where he led the Berry men towards the kitchen, did Santana’s brain slide out of its alcohol induced slumber and spring to life.

“You saw my girlfriend’s breasts before me,” she declared, spinning to glare at Quinn, cutting Kurt off right in the middle of his sentence. He looked particularly affronted as he hadn’t even got to the good part.

“You walked in on them, too?” he then asked, looking at Quinn sympathetically. Oh, he knew of her woes.

“You walked in on them? Are you guys having sex?” she asked, ignoring Santana completely, and now understanding where that dull and overly dramatic tale of meeting Rachel’s fathers was going. She absolutely would have listened sooner had she known that it had that sort of ending.

“Shush, the two of you. I’m trying to make a point,” Santana said, sitting up, sloshing her drink about.

“What’s your point?” Kurt wondered, hoping it was a good once since he had been interrupted. One’s story never recovered and was never as effective after an interruption.

“You saw my girlfriend’s breasts before me!” she cried again, trying to make them see how this was a crime. Quinn – Quinn! – of all people, had seen Rachel topless before her.

“That’s not a point, that’s you whining!” Kurt waved his hand dismissively.

“How could you not tell me?” Santana asked, sounding kinder than she had intended, and choosing to ignore Kurt completely.

“Excuse me for going to see a show during college,” Quinn finally replied, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, excuse you. Sorry that we were poor in college,” Santana sassed, crossing her arms over her chest, rather unsuccessfully given the wine box.

“How did you even afford tickets to that?” Kurt enquired, just remembering how scrawny and poor they had all been. Though, given Santana’s love of boxed wine, it seemed they all hadn’t grown from that time of their life and learnt. Some people were just a lost cause when it came to class. Whatever was he doing with her as a friend.

“My ‘olege ro’ess’r,” Quinn mumbled quietly, sipping her drink like it was the most important task in the world.

“Your what?” Santana asked, hoping to at least be able to hear the response this time.

“My college professor took me,” she said, wiping down the creases in her clothes as her friends behaved like children.

“Ewe!”

“Yucky!” they cried, grimacing and pretending to gag. Quinn could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and shot them both a glare.

“Shut up, it’s not like either of you were any better in college. Huh, Kurt, with your drunken disorderly, and disrupting the peace arrest?”

“I was never charged!” he cried out quickly.

“Or you, Santana, with your dorm room like a revolving door of girls questioning their sexuality and interested in threesomes? The worst I did was date a professor for a few terms, not even my own professor at that. So the two of you can just be quiet. Also, I’d like to point out, that you’ve bedded at least four of your own students, Santana, so you’re practically a hypocrite,” Quinn finished, finishing off her drink and sitting up straighter.

“I told you that in confidence!” she barked, feeling the Kurt’s eyes on her already.

“You slept with your own students?” he asked, sounding ashamed for her.

“Maybe…” Okay, yes, she had, and no, she didn’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t like she slept with them to boost their grades or anything. It was fine, as long as no one found out. “Whatever, that’s not the point. You saw her breasts before me!”

“At least you’ve seen them now!” Quinn shot back. “Oh, and did you finally make it official?”

“Make what official?” Santana asked, looking confused.

“You called her your girlfriend when you were yelling at me, so are the two of you officially together?”

“Oh…” Santana hadn’t even realised. Jesus, she needed to get a hold of that before she said as much in front of Rachel or her dads. “Not yet…I haven’t found the time to ask her.”

“Useless!” Kurt cried, earning a sharp glare from Santana, and a smirk from Quinn. She agreed wholeheartedly with his assessment.

“I’m not useless! It’s been hard!” And it had been. She was sure she would have done it yesterday, if Rachel’s fathers hadn’t arrived, and now it felt like she had to wait until they left before making things official.

“Are you actually going to do it?”

“Yes! Yes, I am. I have everything prepared-“ Santana began to explain.

“What does that even mean?” Quinn asked, frowning.

“I can’t just ask her outright, that would be so boring. It needs to be something more than that-“ Santana’s words were cut off by the door being unlocked, and she shot her friends a look to change the subject.

Kurt was all too happy to start retelling a story he’d already told Quinn on the way over, about how Blaine has started to spend time with some other guy, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he needed to act fast. Santana didn’t give a shit what Kurt did with Warbler, but the conversation was enough to fool the new arrivals that all was well.

Rachel grinned happily at all of them, and gave Santana a particularly bright look, which had her stomach flipping at the sight of it. God, just a smile from this girl still had her giddy. Her fathers also came in smiling, removing their coats as they did so, and then they surveyed the room. Rachel was giving out introductions, allowing Quinn to meet her fathers, but Hiram’s gaze was focused elsewhere.

“Drinking, on a Wednesday afternoon, how appropriate,” he hummed, eyeing up the boxes of wine and the bottles on the table.

Santana wanted the couch to swallow her up whole. Gosh, she looked so irresponsible, and like a drunk. She wasn’t, she really wasn’t. The alcohol just helped her deal with Quinn and Kurt in large doses. They were a lot to handle at the best of times, so really, she shouldn’t be punished for trying to ease her own suffering when they were about.

Rachel, having caught her father’s look and Santana’s uncomfortable shuffling on the couch, made quick work to talk them all up, and within minutes, they were all sitting round the living room, drink in each hand, getting to know each other. Rachel settling in beside Santana, and she couldn’t help herself from wrapping her arm around the smaller girl, giving her shoulder a squeeze. This actually might not be so bad, Santana thought.

Of course, she might have jumped the gun too soon because Leroy asked how they all knew each other, and stories of college followed. Those were not Santana’s finest years, and if she was ever going to get the Berry men’s approval, she needed them to change topic.

“Relax, they’re just testing you. It’s okay,” Rachel soothed, patting her knee.

“Oh! And there was that time Brittany and Santana were caught streaking!” Kurt cried out, having answered God only knows what question of Hiram’s.

“Brittany? Who’s Brittany?”

Santana hoped Rachel would come to her aid, but alas, that was not the case, and Quinn and Kurt were left to reply. So this was going downhill, and even Rachel’s interest in her ex was disconcerting.

It seemed that the Berry men’s visit was going to be a lovely little test of character for Santana, and she was dreading every moment of it. They were prying into parts of her life she was happy to leave buried, and Rachel was going to witness all her misdeeds and hear about all her wilder times. Who knows, after this, she might not even want to go out with Santana.

*0*0*


	9. The Roommate's Talk

*0*0*

_"Oh! And there was that time Brittany and Santana were caught streaking!" Kurt cried out, having answered God only knows what question of Hiram's._

_"Brittany? Who's Brittany?"_

“Brittany’s a friend of ours. We all knew each other in high school and made the transition out. It’s a miracle none of us killed each other in college,” Kurt babbled on, lifting the torch to answer the Berry men’s question.

Santana knew that several eyes were darting to look at her as they spoke, and she mashed her lips together to keep herself from talking. It would be best if everyone moved on over from that piece of information, but it was as though the men could sense that was an uncomfortable topic.

“We’ve not heard anything about a Brittany, is she not friends with you all now?”

“Oh…no, she moved to L.A. We’re all still friends, but the distance…” Quinn answered, smiling politely at the men, and then shooting a glance at Santana. It was a dead give-away that there was more, and before the men could ask, Kurt jumped in to add details.

“She got this amazing job offer, and she just couldn’t turn it down. She’s a dancer, she tours and is _amazing_. Occasionally she’ll send us free concert tickets. It is a friendship worth keeping,” he joked, and thankfully it eased some of the tension in the room.

One of the Berry men must have decided to feel sorry for Santana because after that, both were exceedingly friendly towards her. Hiram didn’t look horrified as she sipped her wine out the box, and Leroy didn’t bat an eyelid when they all started making orgasmic noises while eating Rachel’s cookies . (No euphemism intended, though the thought did have Santana smirking.) Both even loved the sign above the couch, counting how many days since the last broken sink related incident in the apartment.

Of course, the flowing alcohol certainly helped matters.

Hell, it even turned the tables a little bit, and before they knew it, Santana’s embarrassing college tales were nothing to the many stories Rachel’s fathers had about her. Learning about all the crazy embarrassing things she got up to while touring or on stage made Santana like her even more, if that was possible.

It helped that Rachel would blush, squeal when they began a particularly good one, and try to hide her face in Santana’s shoulder and neck. Try as she might, Santana attempted to comfort her, but really, even she was unable to stop the odd chuckle at Rachel’s expense. It was all taken in good humour though.

For a second, it almost felt like they were together, and this was just another night with them hanging out around friends and family. But of course, they weren’t. Santana really needed to do something about that.

When the Berry men were well on their way to being drunk, and Kurt and Quinn were miles past that stage, the four of them were sent off in a cab together to go home. Apparently, the men had taken a shining to Kurt and his flamboyancy, and Quinn with her intelligence and practicalities. If there was ever a moment to feel left out, Santana would have felt it then.

However, it didn’t matter. As long as Rachel liked her, that’s what counted. She needed to keep reminding herself of that. Plus, the alcohol was totally affecting her system, and she could feel weepy Santana lurking beneath the surface of buzzed and tipsy Santana.

In an attempt to control the tears and fight them, because really, there was no need to get upset, Santana headed into the kitchen for a drink of water, and then set about cleaning up the dishes from earlier. The six of them had raided the fridge and the evidence of such a ransack was all over her counters. It didn’t take her long to clean up, and Rachel pitched in to help, too.

Standing in the kitchen together, Santana having another glass of water while Rachel waited on the kettle boiling, they stood in silence. Santana was lazily admiring the way Rachel’s clothes hugged her figure, and Rachel was considering closing the distance between them for a kiss. She had missed those lips, even though they had kissed earlier. She really couldn’t get enough.

Instead, Rachel decided to do some damage control, crossing over to where Santana was to talk to her directly. With the space in between them, it would have felt like she was distancing herself on purpose, and that was not the case.

“I didn’t know they’d ask about Brittany, and I’m sorry if that was-“ she began, pulling Santana from her thoughts, and then saw her quickly shake her head.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I can talk about her.”

“I know, I just didn’t think you’d want to.” That was true, but only because Santana figured that if the men found out she had bought that apartment with Brittany, to start her family with Brittany there, they wouldn’t be in favour of her dating their daughter and staying there.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” Santana said again, reaching out and taking Rachel’s hand in hers. She entwined their fingers and gave her a slight squeeze. “I got the impression that you maybe wanted to ask about her.”

Rachel took a quick breath, ready to deny such a claim, but froze and bit her lip. Yes, she was curious. All she knew of Brittany was that she had previously dated Santana, they bought the apartment she now adored, and that Quinn, Kurt, all of Santana’s friends adored her. Rachel knew it wasn’t a contest, because that was incredibly silly, but she almost felt like she was about to live in Brittany’s shadow if she dated Santana.

That wouldn’t stop her dating her, but it might be easy if she could just hear there was nothing to worry about, that Santana was truly over the other woman. Maybe she was being foolish, maybe she was being silly, but she needed to know.

“You can ask me about her, I won’t get mad,” Santana said softly, dropping her head to look at Rachel carefully.

She knew it would come up eventually. Santana just knew Rachel would ask. She didn’t fault her for it, because she was actually wondering about Rachel’s exes. No, she had prepared for this.

“Are you…Am I…” Rachel began, only to fall short. Goodness, she couldn’t even get the questions out. She should never have started this in the first place.

Santana could see that she wanted to say more, that she was abuzz with questions, but something was holding her back. Maybe she didn’t want to hurt her. Maybe she didn’t want to pry. Whatever it was, Santana could take over and give her the most important answers.

“You’re not a rebound from her, I don’t wish that she was here instead of you, and I don’t think of this apartment as my home with Brittany, but as my home with you,” she said, and Rachel could have melted right into the floor.

Without even having been asked, she covered everything Rachel was insecure about, and she felt her heart soar at Santana’s ability to read her insecurities and calm them. Letting out a relieved laugh, Rachel let go of Santana’s hand and flung her arms around the other woman’s neck, nuzzling her face into her, and inhaling all that she was.

“So I guess I did good there, huh?” Santana teased, a little surprised by the affection but loving it all the same.

“Perfect answer, that was the perfect answer,” Rachel replied, pulling back onto to kiss her.

“Hmmm, not that I’m not…not enjoying these…but your dads are coming by early tomorrow…and we shouldn’t…we shouldn’t start something we can’t finish,” Santana murmured in between the kisses Rachel was bestowing on her. They were addicting, and she wanted to keep going, but she knew that it was unfeasible with Rachel’s dads still in town.

God, if she bedded their daughter within days of meeting them she’d never be able to look them in the eye again.

“You have a point, but I really just want to stay with you tonight,” Rachel replied, cupping Santana’s face in her hands and planting a few shy pecks to her lips. Would she ever grow bored of them? Unlikely.

“Come sleep in my room, or we can sleep in yours. Just stay with me then,” Santana offered, her hands sliding down Rachel’s body. It wasn’t exactly a move that would keep them from jumping the other, but she could hardly help herself anymore, not since she’d seen what was under these clothes and felt the skin against her lips.

“Are you sure?” Rachel asked, breaking Santana’s licentious thoughts.

“Do you really have to ask?” she wondered, her hands having already tightened round Rachel’s waist. The smile Santana received in return was blinding, and Rachel quickly made the decision to ditch having a late night cup of tea, in the aid to sooth her throat. Shutting up the place together, they headed towards Santana’s room, hand in hand.

They were being smart, and doing the right thing, even if the right thing wasn’t each other. But that would happen. It would happen. Santana was sure of it, Rachel was sure of it, all their friends were sure of it. It would happen. Just not tonight.

*0*0*

The following day, Rachel was out and about with her fathers while Santana headed to work. They had woken in each other’s arms, Santana’s arm wrapped round Rachel’s waist, and there had been nothing awkward to the embrace.

In fact, Santana knew for certain that she wanted to keep doing that. However, there was a big difference between living with a girl who you occasionally went out with, dating a girl you lived with, and living with your girlfriend. Or, at least in Santana’s eyes, they were different.

She needed to take things slow, which was perfect since she hadn’t done anything yet, so she was doing even better than slow. She was doing nothing at all.

Hating that she still hadn’t progressed their relationship yet, Santana arrived home that night feeling tired and rundown. The place was empty, and since she had hardly eaten at all during the day, she changed out her work clothes and began dinner. She knew from earlier that the Berry men were headed home that evening, so attempted to whip up something that Rachel might want when she returned. It wasn’t too hard to make pasta and a vegan-friendly sauce. She was actually becoming a pro at all the vegan alternatives.

Once dinner was cooked, she put some in a bowl for herself and left the rest in the pot for Rachel’s return, and then sat down in front of the television to eat it. She’d done enough work today and wanted the night off. Yes, there were papers to grade and deadlines to meet, but no, she was still tired from yesterday and she wanted to rest.

And rest she did.

Lying out on the couch a good hour or so later, Santana found herself fascinated by the infomercial about this pressure washer. She had no need for a pressure washer, but this commercial made her want to get one anyone, just in case she needed a pressure washer, which she was sure she would need at some point.

God, the television had melted her brain.

Thankfully, Rachel’s keys jingled in the lock, and then she appeared. She looked a little sad and rather exhausted, throwing her coat onto the free chair, and kicking her shoes off as she padded over to join Santana on the couch.

“Your fathers head home?” Santana asked, turning to look at her. She nodded softly and crawled onto the couch, with Santana’s arms opening to welcome her into her embrace.

“They did, I’ll see them again in a few months, and I’ll talk to them tomorrow,” Rachel answered, cuddling up to her. Santana could see that she was attempting to hide her feelings on the matter of them leaving, and put the volume on the television down. Then she ran a comforting hand down Rachel’s back and got her to look at her.

“You don’t have to put on a brave face, you can be sad about them going,” she said, not wanting Rachel to have to put up a front in her own apartment, and especially not around Santana.

“I just feel silly getting upset. I’m a grown woman, I see them plenty. It’s not like anything bad has happened, they’re only a phone call away.” And they were, but with each trip they looked older and it was startling to see the years on them like that.

“You’re allowed to miss them,” Santana repeated, knowing that from time to time she also missed seeing her family. It was a given.

“I know, I know.” The gesture was very sweet, and Rachel sent Santana a thankful smile before moving to change the subject. “They liked you, by the way,” she murmured, snuggling closer and watching Santana’s reaction carefully.

“They hated me,” she replied. Yes, the Berry men had been nice last night, but she still hadn’t gotten the impression they were fond of her at all.

“No, they don’t. They really don’t,” Rachel protested, shaking her head.

“Rach, they grilled me like it was a fucking barbeque,” Santana said, raising her eyebrows and challenging Rachel to deny it. She couldn’t because that’s exactly what they did, and she had given them a stern talking to for their actions. She didn’t want them scaring Santana off.

“They…okay, yes, they did but only because they wanted to…They’re protective of me. I’ve had quiet an array of exes, from the certifiably insane to the crazy stalkers, and I’ve had my heart torn to shreds by a few, so I think they just wanted to make sure you were good enough to…good enough for me to make out with on kitchen counter tops,” Rachel finished, biting her bottom lip.

She had wanted to say more, she had wanted to put more meaning behind whatever they were doing, but she didn’t know how to. They still hadn’t defined this. They still hadn’t agreed anything. While Rachel want to have that discussion, while she wanted to just come clean and ask Santana to be her girlfriend, to make it official, she didn’t want to add another heavy load to Santana’s already burdened mind. The last few days couldn’t have been easy for her, so maybe it was best she gave her a break.

With that in mind, Rachel kissed Santana’s cheek softly before settling into her side, her head on Santana’s shoulder, and began watching whatever it was that had Santana glued to the television. They’d have that discussion another day.

“Do you have a show tomorrow night?” Santana asked after a pause.

“I do, yes. Why?” Santana’s face had dropped at her answer, and Rachel desperately wanted to know what was up.

“I was just…it can wait. You don’t have a show on Monday, though, right?” Santana really should learn Rachel’s schedule better, but whatever, they made it work.

“Yeah, that’s right. Monday I have off, why?” Rachel was growing more and more suspicious, and curiosity was getting the better of her. She wanted to know what was going on, and she wanted to know now. Though, she could see from Santana’s guarded expression that this was clearly an important topic, and that had her shifting nervously on the couch.

“I…can we talk then? I just want to talk to you about something,” she explained, and Rachel could already feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. This sounded ominous.

“Nothing serious, right? You’re not asking me to move out or anything?” She tried to control the tone of her voice, but it still came out as a shriek.

“No, I’m not asking you to move out,” Santana replied, chuckling as she shook her head. “Move out, you must be crazy.” She rolled her eyes as Rachel felt the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks.

“Well, you might have, I don’t know.” And she really didn’t. Yes, they were kissing, and yes, Santana had had her hands and tongue on Rachel’s breasts, but that didn’t mean everything was smooth sailing. Even though Rachel had signed a contract, all Santana had to do was ask her to move out and she would, mainly because the heartache would be too painful to live there with. So this might have been that for all she knew.

“Please, as if I could get rid of you now even if I wanted to,” Santana mumbled, rubbing her back again. That felt ridiculously good.

“That is true,” Rachel hummed, mentally thinking about how she would willingly buy the apartment from Santana if it meant she could stay. “You didn’t answer my question about it being serious-“

“Rach, just wait for Monday.” Santana raised her eyebrows in challenge, waiting for Rachel to open her mouth again and ask, but she decided against it.

“I’ll wait for Monday,” she replied, and Santana grinned.

A patient person she was not, but she’d wait. She had no choice really. She was absolutely desperate to know what this was all about, but she only had the weekend, and as they were particularly busy shows, the time would fly. She damn well hoped they’d fly by, or she was going to go crazy. Not that she wasn’t already, mind you.

*0*0*

With Rachel’s busy schedule over the weekend, Santana thankfully had the place to herself. So, of course, she asked Kurt and Quinn to come round. The Berry men had not scared Santana off in her pursuing of Rachel, and actually, they had done a lot of good. She knew what she wanted, and she was determined to go for it.

Before they had arrived, she knew that she wanted to date Rachel some more, definitely sleep with her, and just see where it was all going. Now, after being met with the reality of the girl’s family, seeing the people she’d be associated with and around if things ever became serious, she realised that she had to think this through.

Hiram and Leroy had been protective but friendly, and even if they never actually liked Santana, she still knew that she was crazy about Rachel. That’s all that mattered, her feelings for her roommate.

Things were good as they were, and from the looks of it, they could stay that way, but she wanted more. She wanted her mornings in bed with Rachel by her side, she wanted their Monday date nights, she wanted the holidays together, and she wanted to include Rachel in her plans, permanently.

There was no more need to just see how things would go. Instead, she wanted to make things happen, and in order to do that, she needed to finalise their relationship. Hence, Quinn and Kurt’s involvement.

“Why am I here?” Kurt wondered, coming into the apartment after Santana unlocked the door. After what happened, his key was only to be used in absolute emergencies. This was not such an occasion.

“I’m asking Rachel to be my girlfriend tomorrow, and I just need your opinion on how I’m going to ask her. I think it’s a good idea, but your opinion might be worth hearing.”

The two of them headed into the living room, Kurt taking off his coat as he went, and Santana going back to grab her glass of wine. She poured him a glass as well, as he would probably need it just as much as she did.

“Aww, that’s so sweet, taking my opinion into consideration,” Kurt sang, grinning brightly, and accepting the wine happily.

“Don’t say it like that or you can grab your coat and go right back out again,” Santana grumbled, rolling her eyes at him. He had to ruin it by opening his mouth. Typical.

“So what are you going to say? Do you have anything in mind? Tell me already!”

“Quinn’s not here,” she said, obviously, causing Kurt to deflate on the couch.

“You can tell her again later.” Really, as if he could wait. This was exciting. Why would she hold off on telling him? Hadn’t he waited enough? What kind of friend was she? “So, how are you going to ask Rachel to be your girlfriend? This is a big thing, Santana, especially since the two of you have been-”

“Hey! Don’t start shit like that. I don’t need to be freaked out by this, I’m already freaking out enough. She might say no, so just shut it,” she barked, not wanting to admit that she was pretty nervous. “I got her something, and I have a rough idea of what I’m going to say-“

“What did you get her?” Kurt asked, cutting her off. Really, if there was a gift involved it would be the most important thing. Santana could speak Latin for all he cared, as long as this gift was worthy.

“Wait here and I’ll go get it,” she murmured, taking another gulp of her wine before heading into her bedroom.

Kurt sat patiently and listened as Santana rumbled about in the other room. He hadn’t meant to make her more anxious than she already was. That had never been his intention, so he’d need to watch and make sure he didn’t do it again, and he’d need to warn Quinn, too. The last thing they wanted was Santana freaking out and not asking Rachel, because it was obvious to everyone, including the Berry men, that those two were perfect for each other.

Hearing Santana’s footsteps draw nearer, Kurt turned and just about spat his wine all over the couch. No, this had to be a joke. She had to be joking.

“You’re kidding me, right?” he squeaked, looking at the so-called gift in her hands. The very idea of playing it cool and calm to help ease Santana’s nerves was out the window with this. 

“Nope. I think she’ll love it,” Santana answered, frowning at his reaction.

“She’ll move out,” Kurt stated, not beating around the bush. She was crazy. She was psychotic if she thought this was a good idea.

“No she won’t. She will totally get why this is awesome,” she explained, not wanting to doubt herself, but she had invited Kurt over for a reason.

“If you say so,” he muttered, shaking his head. Then he caught a look of doubt on Santana’s face and quickly opted to move on from it. “You mentioned you had a rough idea on what you wanted to say, tell me more about that.” She’d need to be a freaking wordsmith to pull this off, but he had no doubt she could.

Focusing on what Kurt had asked, Santana moved the gift onto the coffee table and sat back down. She relayed her ideas, her wording, and he threw in a few comments here and there. It actually helped, he actually helped for a change. And just as she was beginning to feel confident in her approach, Quinn arrived.

“I’m sorry I’m late, you wouldn’t believe the nightmare I’ve had to deal with- what’s that for?” she babbled once Santana let her in, stopping short in her sentence when she spotted the gift.

“It’s for Rachel, Santana’s going to give it to her when she asks her to be her girlfriend tomorrow,” Kurt explained, and then tried to subtly wave his hands and let Quinn know not to comment on it. Of course, she didn’t see that and he groaned when she opened her mouth.

“This is a joke, right? You have bought her something else as well?” Quinn asked, turning to look at Santana. She was frowning again and pursing her lips.

 “No, come on, this is good. This is smart! She’ll like it.”

“Earlier you said she’d love it, doubting yourself now?” Kurt threw in, wondering if they could actually salvage this train wreck.

“No, I am not. She will, she’ll love it.”

“God, do you want me to get you a spare key now or should I just expect your ass on my doorstep sometime tomorrow night?” Quinn questioned, laying a sympathetic hand on Santana’s shoulder. It was quickly brushed off with a glare.

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m telling you, she’ll love it.”

Both friends looked doubtful, but they let it slide. Quinn picked up the bottle of wine and sat herself down, and they picked back up where they were in the conversation beforehand. Santana, of course, had to go back over what she planned on saying, with Kurt’s new additions, but at least this time they were agreeing with what she planned on doing.

Her gift was genius. She knew it was. They were going to regret ever doubting her.

Minus doubting her of that, though, they were helpful. They managed to fill the day with mindless chatter and let Santana’s brain turn off from the impending conversation ahead. Without them, she would have been sitting there thinking about everything that had happened, that could happen, that needed to happen, and probably destroy the good mood she was in lately.

Once again, Kurt and Quinn managed to prove themselves as friends and maybe, just maybe, she should keep them around a bit longer. Long enough to help her survive Monday if it went wrong, anyway.

*0*0*

So, Monday came and Santana went to work. Not exactly the big day she was hoping for, but sadly she did have a life outside the apartment.

All throughout her lectures and when she was in her office, her thoughts were on the girl waiting at home for her. Rachel had been up and in the kitchen when she left, giving her a sweet parting kiss and a bid goodbye. They’d talk later, it was agreed, when she got home.

With each tick of the clock, and with each hour passing, Santana felt like she was going to explode. She was on edge. All the different scenarios were playing out in her head. What if Rachel said no? What if Santana had miscalculated how Rachel felt about her? What if this was a step too far because they already lived together? What if Rachel hated the gift? What if she said yes?

They plagued her mind, making each second drag on longer, and it was as if someone had stopped the clock. Of course, then she found out that the clock in her office actually had stopped working around one o’clock, and that had her spewing Spanish curses and launching a binder across the room. The students who had been passing by her door had never been more terrified.

When Santana checked her phone, she found that it was after three and she should have already been on her way home. It almost felt like a sign, and Santana hated signs, especially ones that made her more on edge than she already was.

No, she was doing this. She was going to finally ask Rachel. She just had to. It was eating her up inside. It was making her doubt her actions and she was Santana Lopez, she never doubted herself. So she was heading home and she was going to open that door and find Rachel and ask her outright. No blabbering. No messing about. Just a simple question. Will you be my girlfriend?

_Sorry, Santana, a friend from the theatre was unable to teach a dance class today so I am covering for her. I normally wouldn’t, but she really needed someone. I’ll be home later, sometime after four. See you then! – Rach x_

God, if finding that note on the coffee table wasn’t like a stab to the heart, what was?

Collapsing on the couch, completely defeated, Santana didn’t even bother taking off her coat, she just kicked off her shoes and then curled up for a nap. Life was far too stressful.

Hours later, when outside had grown dark, and the only light on in the apartment was the lamp Rachel accidentally left on, the girl Santana sought so hard to talk to finally arrived back home. Too bad Santana was still sound asleep.

Rachel entered the apartment and upon seeing it in almost darkness, she snuck in to see if her roommate was around. If she was sleeping, she didn’t want to wake her. It was then that Rachel spotted the figure sprawled out on the couch, and let out a soft sigh. Her roommate really was gorgeous, especially so when she slept. Though, maybe that was more to do with how she couldn’t say anything and ruin the moment.

Not wanting to disturb her, Rachel went and got herself changed, before quietly setting about to make dinner. When the food was almost ready, she knew it was time to awake Sleeping Beauty, and began putting on a few more lights about the place. The kitchen lights had been beaming into the living room, but apparently it wasn’t enough.

However, with each light Rachel put on, Santana began to stir, rolling onto her back and lifting a hand to cover her eyes.

“Dinner is just about ready, sit up and I’ll get you a drink and bring them over, okay?” Rachel whispered, placing a kiss on Santana’s forehead and watching as she attempted to open her eyes.

“You’re home,” she slurred, still sleepy.

“I’m home,” Rachel repeated, smiling at how good that sounded and all the emotions it evoked with it. “Do you want me to get you something to change into before you eat?”

“Huh?” Santana frowned at Rachel’s question and then looked down at herself. Her suit was now crumpled in multiple places, and despite already looking a mess, she decided it would be best to change and not add to it. “I’ll do it, don’t worry,” she replied, beginning to sit up, making Rachel move back out the way. “Thanks, though.”

Rachel shot her another smile and went back to the kitchen, letting Santana wake up fully on her own, and give her time to get changed. Rachel was fully aware that they had agreed to talk today, and she had been awash with nerves all day, but right now she just wanted to have a nice meal with her roommate. No stress, no anxieties, just dinner.

That’s exactly what she got, curled up on one end of the couch, Santana at the other as she spoke about her day and listened when Rachel spoke about the dance class she’d gone to. It was easy enough conversation to fill the void.

Only when dinner was over, dishes were done, and both woman were sitting back in the living room, did Rachel push the subject of what had been mentioned last week. She really couldn’t wait any longer.

“You…you wanted to talk to me today?” she said, attempting to be nonchalant about it, but failing miserably. Really, and she called herself an actor.

Santana knew it was coming, but still couldn’t stop her body from freezing at Rachel’s words. She tried to brush it off quickly, and then swallowed, nodding her head.

“Yeah, I did. But first, I have something for you; a gift.”  

“A gift?” Okay, from all of Rachel’s worrying, a gift had not been on the list.

“Yeah, just wait here and I’ll go get it.” Santana smiled somewhat nervously as she nipped out the room, and Rachel wracked her brain to work out what it could be. A gift, Santana had gotten her a gift. Was this some kind of roommate anniversary she’d forgotten? Surely not, the calendar in her room would have told her so. What was the occasion?

Coming back into the room a few moments later, Rachel looked at the wrapped box Santana was carrying with a bow on top, and her curiosity grew. As did her excitement, of course, because it was a gift and it was for her!

“San…” Rachel began, only to be shushed with a headshake.

“Just open it,” she said, not wanting to prolong this anymore. This was either going to be the beginning of the best decision she’s ever made, or the beginning of the worst.

Rachel took Santana’s words as gospel and wasted no time in leaning over the coffee table, where Santana had placed it, and began to unwrap the box. As she found out when she touched the bow, the top of the box was actually just covered in paper, and there was a space beneath it. That was clearly the best place to start removing the paper, and as she did so and saw what it was, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, Santana! That’s so sweet of you!” Rachel gushed, laughing and biting her bottom lip to try and contain some of her excitement, pulling all the paper away and looking inside.

“Yeah? You don’t hate it?” Santana asked somewhat nervously. God, stupid Quinn and Kurt making her doubt herself. Those bastards! She didn’t need this fear at a time like this!

“No, I love it! You bought me a sink!” she cried, outright laughing now and smiling at Santana. “What’s this for? I haven’t broken one in weeks.” Or had she and had she just not realised it?

“I just…I wanted it to be a sort of…” Fuck, she felt like she was going to pass out. This really shouldn’t be this hard. She knew what she wanted, the girl was right in front of her.  

“Santana?” Rachel asked, some of her excitement waning and becoming concern for her roommate.

“Look, I was thinking…maybe, maybe you’d like to stay here and continue to break my sinks, but as my girlfriend, instead of as my roommate. That’s why you got the sink, because if you stay, you can do that, and we can…we can be together. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. We’ll keep the sink because you’ll still live here and-“ she’d started to pick up speed as she spoke, and she was no longer looking at Rachel, but at her lap, frowning and losing control of the situation.

Thankfully, there was someone on hand to help.

“Hey, relax,” Rachel murmured, sliding over on the couch to be closer, wrapping her arm around Santana’s waist in the process. “You really want to go out with someone who is a great big klutz? Cause, you know, this sink probably won’t last another month.” Even then, that was probably being generous.

“It’s not been installed yet,” Santana stated, frowning. Rachel’s answer wasn’t quite enough to know whether or not she was saying yes or not, and that was the crucial part of what she’d said, not the damn sink.

“Yes, but we can just guarantee the current kitchen sink or bathroom sinks are not going to make it, especially if I’m long overdue. I mean, I broke the shelf in the bathroom the other day, I’m getting close to the sink; I’m in the right room,” Rachel explained, actually surprised with how long she had gone without taking another one out.

“Good lord, woman, you are like no other,” Santana moaned in disbelief, causing Rachel to grin and nod in agreement.

“Which is why you like me so much.” Santana shrugged in defeat, unable to deny such a claim. “I would love to stay here as your girlfriend, instead of as your roommate,” Rachel finished, smiling.

“Yeah?” Had Santana heard that right? Was she dreaming?

“Yes.” As if she’d say no. Letting out a relieved laugh, Santana dropped her head back and took a deep breath. “Did you actually think I’d say no?” Rachel wondered, reaching out to grab her girlfriend’s hand. Gosh, that sounded good.

“Maybe…I mean, I didn’t know if you wanted this and-“

“You’re crazy to think I don’t want you,” she whispered, closing the distance between them. Her pupils were dilated, and Santana swallowed at the heady look in Rachel’s eyes. “You really must be crazy if you think I don’t want this.”

Giving her an almost wicked smile, Rachel leant forward and kissed Santana with a little more teeth that usual, nipping at her bottom lip and then swiping it with her tongue, making her moan. This was her girlfriend, her ridiculously attractive girlfriend, and they had the entire evening together, and why oh why had they decided to hold off on things?

Gasping to catch her breath back, Santana pulled back from Rachel and smirked. Sweet baby Jesus, this was not an outcome she had expected, but it was the best damn one. Rachel had said yes. She was officially her girlfriend now, and from the looks of things, she was actually going to be in Santana’s bed, and that was just the perfect ending to all this.

She knew that damn sink was a good idea!

*0*0*


	10. The Roommate's Adoration

*0*0*

_"You're crazy to think I don't want you," Rachel whispered, closing the distance between them. Her pupils were dilated, and Santana swallowed at the heady look in her eyes. "You really must be crazy if you think I don't want this."_

_Giving her an almost wicked smile, Rachel leant forward and kissed Santana with a little more teeth that usual, nipping at her bottom lip and then swiping it with her tongue, making her moan. This was her girlfriend, her ridiculously attractive girlfriend, and they had the entire evening together, and why oh why had they decided to hold off on things?_

_Gasping to catch her breath back, Santana pulled back from Rachel and smirked. Sweet baby Jesus, this was not an outcome she had expected, but it was the best damn one. Rachel had said yes. She was officially her girlfriend now, and from the looks of things, she was actually going to be in Santana's bed, and that was just the perfect ending to all this._

_She knew that damn sink was a good idea!_

Not wasting another second, Santana leant back in, still trying to catch her breath, and leant her forehead against Rachel’s. She felt her Rachel’s hands come up, cupping her cheeks, as she closed her eyes and just took in everything Rachel was. Her hands sought out Rachel’s waist, holding on tightly, needing to ground herself. Rachel was intoxicating, addicting, exhilarating, drawing Santana in further, and yet keeping her at enough distance for her to want more.

Somehow, Rachel had Santana getting to her feet, their legs bumping the coffee table as they manoeuvred their way through the apartment, their kisses becoming frantic, needy, lust filled, and it had Santana’s heart racing to keep up.

Pulling back from the kiss when they hit the hallway wall, they each took a deep breath and Santana licked her lips quickly, whimpering at the sight of Rachel’s blown pupils. She gave her a heady look and half a smile before taking her hand and pulling her down the hall, no more bumping into furniture to slow them down.

Santana followed, her heart still beating wildly in her chest, thumping in her ears, her breath quickening at the prospect of what was ahead, and her chest heaving. She could hardly believe this was happening. It felt like a dream, a very real, very exciting, dream. Rachel gave her a sultry look over her shoulder as they entered her room, and good lord, that was enough to have Santana’s mouth run dry. She couldn’t handle this girl.

“I need…can I just…have minute?” Santana whimpered, trying not to lose herself completely. It was so difficult, but she needed to control the overwhelming feeling of lust and adoration running through her system.

They were actually in her bedroom now, with her bed right there. The very same bed Santana had imagined Rachel in, and with her dreams quickly becoming reality, she needed a moment to pull herself together. She just needed to splash some water on her face, not over think what was about to happen, and let go.

“Of course,” Rachel replied, nodding softly. She did look a little surprised by the change of pace, but it was all perfectly understandable, and she could use a minute to herself, too.  Leaning upon her tiptoes, Rachel kissed Santana’s lips softly, once, before letting her sneak away out of the room.

Santana took shaky steps back into the hall, rushing into the bathroom, leaving her alone. Deciding not to overwhelm Santana when she came back in the room, Rachel opted not to sprawl herself out of across the bed in some seductive manner. She wanted  this to be right for them, no rushing, no rash decision, just something they both wanted.

Rachel was pretty certain they were at this point, if Santana’s previous actions had been any indication. Though, her roommate’s current disappearance wasn’t exactly filling her with confidence. She wasn’t going to let that perturb things, however. She wanted Santana, no ifs and no buts about it.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Rachel ran her hands through her hair, wiped down her clothing to make sure she looked presentable, and awaited her girlfriend’s return. No longer was she just her roommate, and it was about time she started making that change in her vocabulary, she noted.

Suddenly, there was a muffled bang, followed by cursing, and Rachel rose her eyebrows in curiosity, looking at the door to see if Santana was returning to her anytime soon. Right enough, Santana came rushing into the bedroom, looking flushed, closing the door behind her and leaning on it.

“Holy crap…” she muttered, shaking her head, and Rachel was still at a loss as to what was going on.

“You okay?” Rachel asked, getting up from the bed and approaching Santana cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I broke the sink,” Santana murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. This had to be a fucking joke, she couldn’t have. She absolutely could not have broken a sink. Just no way. It was still a mystery to herself as she uttered those words.

“You what?” Rachel asked, frowning in confusion. She had to have heard wrong.

“I broke the sink,” Santana repeated, feeling like she’d just let herself down. What had she done? What had her life become? Was this what being Rachel Berry’s girlfriend entailed? Were they going to pick up each other’s traits? Santana did not sign on for this bullshit.

“If this is a joke, it’s not funny,” Rachel said coldly, the previous mood having been killed off with Santana’s return, as she crossed her arms over her chest.  Santana’s mouth dropped open in shock, looking at her girlfriend in disbelief.

“It is not a joke! Why would I joke about this?!” she barked, frowning in return. How dare she think she was lying!

“You actually broke the sink?” Rachel replied, sounding sceptical. There was just no way.

“Yes, I actually broke the sink. Go see!” Santana cried, moving out the way of the door, opening it forcefully and then waving Rachel into the hall.  

Rachel wasted no time, marching onwards to see if this was some elaborate joke on her behalf. Gosh, they hadn’t been together five minutes and already they were on the cusp of having their first big fight. Just brilliant.

Throwing open the bathroom door to see the scene of the crime, Rachel’s frown vanished into one of shock horror because right enough, the sink was cracked right down the inside of the basin. It was nowhere near as bad as Rachel’s previous encounters with the sink, but it was still a broken sink.

“Oh my God, you broke the sink!” she cried, and Santana stuck her head round the door.

“I told you! And I can’t believe you didn’t believe me! As if I would make this up -Wait, why are you smiling like that?” Rachel’s response had Santana frowning, seeing that show smile on her lips. What was going on?

“You broke the sink,” Rachel repeated, her smile widening, a happy chuckle sneaking out as she bit her lip to contain it.

“Yeah…I thought we’d already covered that,” Santana murmured, moving in the bathroom now to stand next to Rachel. She still had no clue what the hell was happening. Had her girlfriend suddenly lost her mind? Had this been the last straw?

She should have expected this sooner, but if Rachel had lost the plot now, of all times, Santana was going to be gutted. They had just gotten over their awkward dating but not dating situation. Why of all times did Rachel have to go and loose her marbles just as they were about to get to the good part of dating?

“Santana, _you_ broke the sink,” Rachel laughed, throwing her hands up in the air excitedly. Yeah, girl was definitely crazy.

“I know. Why is that such a big- umfgh!” With a painful grunt, Santana landed on the bathroom floor with a thump, and a Rachel Berry on her lap, suddenly kissing her for all she was worth.

Rachel had tackled her, throwing her arms around her neck, not caring about the consequences, and subsequently Santana being her soft landing, in order to shower her with affection. Rachel’s hands were tugging at her hair, scratching down her body, sliding under her clothes, as her lips devoured Santana’s, kissing, licking and nipping at her in every way possible. She was grinding into her lap, making her dizzy with sensation overload, and Santana turned her head away, making Rachel change course to her neck, so she could catch her breath. It felt like she was forever out of breath around this girl.

 “Fucking hell, if I knew you’d react like this I would have taken a hammer to that fucker months ago,” she moaned out, feeling Rachel’s tongue lapping at the skin she’d just sucked upon, and then Rachel was above her, her lustful gaze rendering Santana speechless.

“Stop talking,” she murmured, her chest heaving, her lips swollen, and Santana swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Okay,” she croaked, nodding carefully, before Rachel smiled at her like she was prey about to be eaten. In some sense, that was true, but first they had to get back into the bedroom, and that was no easy feat.

Rachel was doing everything right, everything to make Santana think twice about moving them, but God, the floor wasn’t comfortable, and she was not having her bare ass freezing on the cold, hard, tiles because Rachel couldn’t stop sucking on her neck to move to a more comfortable location. They had two perfectly good bedrooms within walking, and shuffling, distance so this was not happening on the bathroom floor.

It took some effort, and far too many bruises, to get the two of them inside Santana’s bedroom again, with Rachel trying not to laugh at Santana’s determination, and Santana trying to fight the urge to just throw Rachel over her shoulder and throw her onto the bed caveman style. She would be more civilised than that, dammit.

With the door shut behind them, and them still on the floor, Rachel leant over and gave Santana a cheeky little kiss, smiling into it, as she caressed her cheek.

“You could have asked and I would have helped,” she murmured, her eyes captivating Santana’s gaze again.

“You were a little preoccupied marking your territory,” Santana grumbled, wondering about the state of her neck. She would not be impressed if Rachel had started redecorating her skin with bruises and hickeys. They were not twelve year olds out of control, thank you very much.

“I didn’t leave a mark,” Rachel answered, eyeing said skin up just to make sure. She was pretty certain she hadn’t, but it was worth checking.

“Really?” Santana wondered, this time raising her hand to cup the side of Rachel’s face softly. She was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous, and it still was blowing Santana’s mind that they were actually together now. How the hell had she pulled that off?

“Really,” she confirmed, nodding.

“You can…you can mark me, just not there,” Santana mumbled, dropping her gaze to Rachel’s lips, and catching a slow smile making its way across her lips.

“I like the sound of that,” Rachel husked, leaning in to kiss her again. Santana liked the sound of that too, and she could only hope she had every intention of fulfilling said scenario.

She did, and they were quick on each other again, moving in unison towards their common goal; the bed. It was within touching distance, and as Santana manoeuvred them round, she felt her body hit the side of it. Rachel was quick to sit up on the edge, back where she was before Santana broke the sink, and then her hands were pulling Santana’s body up with her.

They shuffled further up the bed, Rachel’s lips seeking out Santana’s again and again, quick kisses, small nips to her bottom lip, fast swipes of her tongue asking for entrance, everything to keep the teasing game they had going on.

With Rachel settled beneath her, Santana pulled back fully for a moment, the top half of her body’s weight resting on her arms, as her hips lay in-between Rachel’s legs. She was gorgeous, complete perfection. If she wasn’t falling head over heels in love with this girl before, she was now. How could she not be?

“What is it?” Rachel asked, her hand skimming under Santana’s top, caressing her abs.

“I can’t get enough of you,” Santana confessed, finally moving back down to kiss Rachel soundly.

Her lips were hard, demanding, brushing against Rachel’s with determination and purpose. She had waited so long to be able to do this, and she intended to make the most of every moment with her.  

Sneaking her tongue out, Rachel licked Santana’s bottom lip and grinned when she heard her moan loudly, Santana’s hands moving to grasp at Rachel’s body. Her hips had started grinding into Rachel’s and it was enough to have them both panting through the kisses, trying to fight the need to breath and the oncoming dizzy spells when they didn’t succeed.

However, both of them were focused on one other factor that wasn’t quick hitting the mark. The friction of them grinding into each other wasn’t enough, it was good, but it was nowhere near enough. And the heat in the room, it was far too fucking hot. Why were they still dressed? Why hadn’t they taken off these stupid clothes yet?

As if both thinking it at the same moment, they quickly made to remove the other’s clothing. Santana made for Rachel’s bottoms, wondering why on today of all days the girl had put pants on; while Rachel tugged at Santana’s top. Santana was desperate to see her, to kiss the skin that had been hidden for so long, to worship the body she’d admired for months.

And that’s exactly what she did.

Each item hit the floor in a flurry of motion, revealing more and more skin to be kissed, conquered, adored, and she set about kissing each inch of it, nuzzling into the contours and curves, laying claim to it. She was so soft, so delicate beneath her touch, that Santana was slowing things down, much to Rachel’s annoyance.

As much as she loved the care Santana was taking with her, the need between her thighs was too much for simple kisses and gentle flicks of Santana’s tongue against her stomach muscles. She wanted so much more than what was being offered, and she knew Santana was capable of it.

Rachel had tried so hard to remain unaware about her roommate’s…her girlfriend’s sex life, but that had been tricky. After Santana found out about Rachel being aware of the girl on the coffee table, it got easier, to no surprise. However, that girl had left an impression, one that spoke of Santana being thorough, driven, unwavering in her need, and that was just not the girl that was running her fingers along the edge of Rachel’s underwear.

On one hand, it was terribly sweet to see Santana taking this softer side with her, but on the other, she wasn’t going to break, and the sooner Santana realised that, the better.

When Santana’s hands finally hooked into the edges of her underwear, Rachel was ready to cry out in frustration. This teasing was no fun, and she quickly pushed Santana away from her to throw off her underwear, leaving her bare. She received a curious raise of on eyebrow in return, but she wasn’t embarrassed in the least. Couldn’t Santana see that she was desperate? Was that not obvious?

Wasting no time at all, Rachel was quick to help shift Santana out the last of her clothing, leaving her naked, and what a sight that was to behold. Rachel whimpered at the view, tugging Santana to lie over her as she went to lie on her back. Santana slotted against her, sliding one thigh in-between Rachel’s, making her cry out in pleasure, and throw her head back. If she’d opened her eyes, she would have seen the satisfied smirk on Santana’s lips at the sound.

Eyeing up the newly exposed skin, Santana gently planted kisses there, before allowing  her fingers to slowly move down Rachel’s body. Rachel was still grinding into her thigh, allowing her to feel just how much she wanted her, and it was spurring Santana on. She could feel her body reacting her turn, grinding back, desperately seeking friction. And by this point, Rachel’s cries were frequent, and she was whimpering, whining, begging and pleading with noises she was sure she’d never made before. It was music to Santana’s ears as her fingers travelled lower.

She spent a ridiculous amount of time transfixed by Rachel’s breasts, teasing and caressing the skin there, not giving her exactly what she wanted, and making Rachel arch her back for more contact. It was one of the sexiest sights Santana had ever seen, and she needed to see it again. She was rewarded with a sharp moan and another arch when she added her lips into the mix, flicking her tongue over Rachel’s breast carefully, sucking softly, and revelling in the feel of her hands coming up to tangle in Santana’s hair.

It was intoxicating, being this close, leaning what she liked, what made her tick, what made her squirm, and Santana had to bite back her own moan on many occasion. By the time her fingertips were ghosting up the inside of Rachel’s thighs, her body much lower so she could plant kisses on her hipbones, Santana felt like she was close to combusting, and Rachel wholeheartedly agreed with that assessment.

The room was stifling, with Santana’s touch burning her even more. It was only adding to the heat, making Rachel gasp for breath as she felt Santana’s fingers tease her gently. She really couldn’t take much more of this. If Santana didn’t hurry up, Rachel was going to end up taking charge herself.

Unaware of Rachel’s thoughts, Santana allowed her gaze to filter over the skin on show, licking her lips as she did so. She wanted to do so much, all at once, and couldn’t decide where to start. She’d been thinking about this for months, and now it was actually happening, she was at a loss. She wanted to touch, to taste, to lick, to suck, to bite and to devour. Thankfully, Rachel’s body seemed up for all of that and more.

With the realisation of where Santana’s mouth was going as she began to kiss down her pubic bone, Rachel couldn’t help but buck her hips, eagerly trying to seek out Santana’s touch. She needed something, anything, before Santana did that or she wouldn’t last. One kiss, one lick, one taste and she’d be a goner.

Santana finally reached her destination and she couldn’t fight the whimper that broke through. Fucking hell. Her girl was fucking gorgeous, the scent overwhelming her senses, her tongue desperate to taste her, and her fingers just itching to feel the wet heat awaiting.

“Please, Santana, please,” Rachel whined, her hands reaching up and gripping the pillows above her in desperation.

With one look, Santana knew there was no point waiting any longer and placed a very light kiss to Rachel’s clit, causing her to buck up frantically for more. That brought a chuckle from Santana’s lips, and she knew if she wanted to continue she’d need to keep Rachel’s hips on the bed.

“Try to stay still, or you might do me some damage.” She could already see that ending in disaster if Rachel didn’t keep her hips grounded.

“You’re doing me damage by teasing,” Rachel replied, her mind having gone to mush. Santana grinned wider at that and shook her head, happy to cease the teasing.

Her fingers caressed Rachel first, slipping over her slowly, as if there was no rush. To Rachel, there was most definitely a rush. She couldn’t take this much longer. If Santana didn’t cooperate, she was going to shove her own hand down there and take care of herself. She needed to come. She needed a release. There was ringing in her ears, her vision gone, just pre-empting the orgasm ahead, if she was ever going to get one.

The feeling of Rachel on her fingers, wet and warm, Santana couldn’t hold back any more and with one broad stroke of her tongue from bottom to top, she had Rachel frantically opening her legs wider, moaning aloud, and groaning in frustration after she stopped.

It was only a momentary stop, as Santana didn’t have the willpower to stay away long. Sinking back in, she swirled her tongue around Rachel’s entrance, her nose prodding at her clit, and drawing patterns over Rachel’s flesh.

The whole thing was maddening, Rachel’s back arching under her ministrations once more, and her body feeling like it was on fire. Santana’s tongue continued to tease at her entrance, sliding through her folds, circle her clit and pull her closer and closer to ecstasy.

The girl on the coffee table was definitely not faking. No way could someone fake this. Santana was too skilled at it. She knew when to use broad strokes and firm strokes to wind up and bring down. She knew when to suck and to lick to draw the most out of the body before her. She knew exactly how to worship a girl, and it was driving Rachel insane.

She was getting close, so close, when she felt Santana’s hand slip away from her hip and slide down between her legs. Santana’s face was all but buried down there, teasing her, destroying her, and it only improved when she felt two fingers slide effortlessly in. There was no fighting the urge to buck her hips and she did so with a lengthy moan and a quick grasp at Santana’s hair. She tugged, begging Santana to focus on her clit, but the girl was preoccupied elsewhere.

With each thrust of her fingers in and out of Rachel, Santana could taste more and more of her, could flick and swirl her tongue around her entrance, and could fully enjoy eating her out. It was like a drug, bringing someone this close to ecstasy. Rachel’s body was under her control, and that thought shot another bout of lust though her system, causing her to moan.

She was ridiculously wet, her hips undulating against the mattress for some kind of friction, but she was focused on the girl beneath her. It was all about her. It had always been about her, and that wasn’t going to change now.

Flicking her clit once before sucking it gently between her lips, she curled her fingers inside, and Santana felt Rachel tighten, saw her nipples harden as her back arched, then heard Rachel moan out loudly as she came, her orgasm throwing her over the edge in one fell swoop. It was the most erotic thing Santana had ever seen, and she slowed the lasting kisses and flicks of her tongue down, eventually using broad strokes to taste the remainder of Rachel, before crawling back up her body, leaving kisses over her skin as she did so.

Rachel had been flying, hitting cloud nine and going higher. Then to feel Santana’s lips kissing their way up her body, scorching her skin, nipping at her neck again, she writhed beneath her and fought to get her breath back. It had been stolen from her lungs, and her body was still quaking in its wake.

She clutched at Santana frantically, still feeling like she was falling, plummeting towards the ground at a million miles an hour. Just being this close to her, having her arms rubbing at her skin softly and letting her catch her breath was calming her down, grounding her at a more even pace, until she could focus, could hear properly, and see everything clearly again.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Santana murmured, nuzzling into Rachel’s neck, and feeling her moan out. God, that should be illegal. Santana should not be allowed to utter such things and throw her back off into the abyss, with her thighs clenching tightly again. Of course, she was not going to argue, and actually turned into Santana’s kiss, ready to do some of her own exploring.

Rachel was certain she wouldn’t make it through the night, but her death would be glorious, and she was welcoming it with open arms.

*0*0*

In the early hours of the morning, way before the sun had even thought about rising, Santana dangled off the bed, reaching for her bag. She was tangled up in the sheets, attempting to tug the strap of the bag to her and pull it closer. It was a precarious struggle, but it paid off, and then she was shoving her hand inside and feeling out for her phone.

Rachel had been asleep behind her, tucked up in bed, dead to the world, but apparently Santana’s balancing act had alerted her to something going on.

“What are you doing?” Rachel whined, tugging back the covers Santana was stealing, with her eyes still shut. Really, it was too early for this, and she was too tired to even think about moving. Why was Santana even awake?

“Nothing,” Santana replied, still trying to find her phone. This wasn’t Mary Poppins’ bag, it should be right there. Where the fuck had this thing gone?

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Rachel had no idea if that was true because she still hadn’t opened her eyes, but whatever. Santana didn’t know that.

“I’m texting Quinn and Kurt.” That sounded like a decent enough response, and Santana had hoped it would be enough to stop any further questions, but that was not the case.

“Why? What time is it?” Rachel pushed her body up, ignoring her girlfriend’s gaze now honing in on where the sheet had fallen, and looked at the clock on the bedside table. “San, it’s almost four a.m. What could you possible need to tell them?”

“Nothing,” she repeated, finally finding the phone and rolling back onto the bed properly.

“You’re lying and I don’t appreciate it,” Rachel murmured, coming close to snuggle into Santana’s side, relishing in the skin on skin contact. The main advantage of this position, however, was the fact she could see what Santana was typing out on her phone.

_You’re both morons- the sink was the best idea ever. Oh, and we had sex. Let me know who won the bet- I want a cut of the winnings!_

“The bet?” Rachel grumbled, and Santana froze, realising Rachel could see what she’d just typed and sent out. Just as she was about to explain, Rachel bounced into action. “Oh my God, what day is it? What’s the date?!” she cried, and Santana remained frozen, watching her girlfriend vanish from the room, giving her a beautiful view of her behind as she did so.

What the fuck had just happened? She’d gone from being dead to the world one minute to the energizer bunny on speed the next. Was that normal for Rachel after sex?

Santana waited with bated breath and listened as Rachel padded into her room, and then cried out a loud ‘no’ before coming back. She had a pout on her lips when she came back into the room and slipped back under the covers, and Santana was fully expecting to get yelled at for making a bet on when they’d had sex, but that was most definitely not what happened.

“We should have held off two days. Two days, Santana, and I would have made four hundred dollars!” Rachel cried, shaking her head sadly.

“What?!” It was not meant to be a screech, but apparently Santana had lost the ability to control what noises she made anymore, and that was most definitely a screech.

“It’s all going to Kurt! Kurt! He’s going to get it now!” Rachel ranted, waving her arm, almost whacking Santana in the process who had sat up to hear this out. She really couldn’t believe it.

“You knew about the bet?!” How was that even possible?

“Of course I knew! My friends and I have been in the running since we found out! Two days, two days!” she whined again, and Santana was in shock, her mouth open as if she wanted to say more but completely unable to. She needed a second just to wrap her head around this.

“Am I the only one who didn’t take part in this bet?” Santana asked, looking around in wonder. It was rhetorical, but Rachel clearly didn’t get that memo.

“Yes,” she answered, shaking her head. “Shame, too, because we could have doubled our chances.”

“How were you even allowed to bet?” There was no way Santana was allowed to, so how come Rachel got in on the action?

“I placed my bets through my friends, and since I didn’t know you that well, they just thought I’d get it horribly wrong. Well, I wasn’t that far off.”

“You just assumed we’d be having sex?” Santana wondered, raising her eyebrows in question.

“No, but I had hoped,” Rachel admitted, finally turning to look at her girlfriend. “I would have used the money to take you out,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “Honestly, I just wanted to beat Kurt. He was so sure he was going to win.”

“We’re never going to hear the end of it,” Santana murmured, dropping back onto the mattress. God, Quinn must have been losing her mind by now. She really thought she had it in the bag. “We should force him to give us some of the money. I have blackmail material we could use,” she suggested, chancing a look at her girlfriend.

“Normally I would abhor such actions, but I’ll make an exception in this case. Let’s do it!” Rachel replied, grinning happily.

The four hundred dollars was swaying her decision, knowing that he would probably buy more questionable clothes than using it wisely. She could actually put that money to good use, instead. Santana was thinking along the same lines, just imagining what horrors Kurt would purchase with his winnings, and that shit needed to be stopped. But hell, Santana actually had permission to use her devious side for a change.

God, they were already formulating blackmail plans together, which had Santana grinning in return.  This girl was perfect, absolutely perfect. Best roommate, now girlfriend, ever.

“Oh! I get to change the sign in the living room!” Rachel suddenly cried, and once again she was gone from the bed.

Okay, so maybe Santana was going to be the one who would never live things down. When Kurt and Quinn found out about her breaking that damn sink, they were going to hang it over her head for eternity. Thank God, Rachel had given her permission to be devious, because she was going to blackmail the both of them into never mentioning it. Santana just wouldn’t be able to live with the shame, if they did, regardless of the glorious sex that had followed.

What had she become? Rachel had her baking and breaking sinks, was this what it was like being in love with her? Was Santana really going to be able to live like that?

With Rachel wandering round the corner into her bedroom, grinning happily, content in her nude state, Santana realised that yes, she was definitely going to be able to live like that, and very happily, too.

*0*0*

 


	11. The Roommates Blackmail

*0*0*

The following days in the apartment were blissful, as far as Santana was concerned. It was safe to say that the two of them were in the honeymoon stage of their relationship. It was pretty perfect, really, and with the latest advancement in their physical relationship things had certainly heated up.

Santana really couldn’t get enough of Rachel, and it seemed mutual. On one hand, it was spectacular spending every night wrapped up in Santana’s bed together, but on the other, it led to exhausted mornings and a grouchy attitude her poor students had to contend with. She would care, maybe, if Rachel wasn’t so addictive, but as she was, Santana figured they needed to get used to this new side of her.

And get used to her they would, as it was on another one of those addictive and exhausting nights where Rachel arrived back late from her show and Santana had stayed up for her that she realised she really was fighting a losing battle. No matter how hard she tried, how much she fought it, she was now one hundred percent enamoured with Rachel and if that meant staying up late, napping during the afternoon, she would do it just to see her more often. All of this resulted in a needy kiss by the kitchen sink, evolving into sliding her body onto the worktop, and ending in them tangled up in her bed sheets some time later.

Rachel was laying on her front, her back exposed, and Santana was lying on her side, facing her. Slowly, she was running her fingers up and down her spine, caressing her lower back, and revelling in the silence of their apartment. This girl, she just couldn’t get enough of this girl, which always left her feeling a little off kilter.

She had been here once before. Granted, it was different. She had known Brittany for years, whereas Rachel and her had only known each other eight months. Things had moved fast, faster than Santana was used to. But she did feel ready, well as ready as she could when it came to anything involving Rachel.

And that’s why she was fighting sleep, too caught up in the skin beneath her fingertips and the eyes that were watching her contentedly. If Santana could, she’d like to freeze time, keep them in that moment for as long as possible, just until she had it memorised. As it was, she couldn’t, and due to that, she was going to stay awake any way she could.

Thankfully, Rachel was ready to fill in the silence. Santana was actually surprised she had stayed quiet so long. It might have been a new record if she had lasted a few minutes longer.

“How are we going to get our share of the money from Kurt?” Rachel wondered, ruffling her hair over her shoulders, making Santana lick her lips as she edged closer, running her nose  up her arm and planting a few kisses there as she did so.

“I have a sex tape Kurt and Blaine made; Sebastian would sell his soul for it.” And that wasn’t an exaggeration on her part. Santana could probably get more money out of Sebastian than they would Kurt for the damn thing, but she wasn’t that cruel. Yet.

“Why…Why do you even have that?” Rachel asked, frowning in confusion. Did she need to be concerned? Was that something Santana was into? By now, she thought she would have come across all her little quirks, but apparently not.

“It was accidentally sent to me,” Santana replied quickly, holding up her free hand. She was not having Rachel thinking she was into watching her friends get it on. No way. There was nothing those two had that she wanted to see. “I realised that it would probably come in use so kept it, though.” And it had, so what was the big deal?

“Have you watched it?” There was so much speculation in her voice, it had Santana frowning in confusion. Who did her girlfriend think she was?

“God no.” Please, Rachel, don’t make her sick. “I opened it to see what they’d sent me and once I saw Kurt taking off his shirt I shut that shit down.” To this day, Santana still hadn’t worked out why she had been added in on that email but it was something she never asked about. Kurt was far too embarrassed about it to enquire more, and Warbler probably didn’t have a clue she even had it.

Rachel was relieved by Santana’s answer, and her body relaxing into the bed said as much. Santana tried not to be offended that the girl was worried so much. Please. If anyone had cause to be concerned about what the other had hidden in the kink closet it was most definitely Santana. Rachel was all sorts of crazy.

It could be fun, but it could be terrifying, too. She’d find out soon.

“Okay, well let’s try that,” Rachel murmured, turning her head into a quick kiss, sighing softly afterwards. “They’re coming over this weekend, right?”

“Mmmhmm,” Santana hummed, kissing her again and again, straying across her cheek and down her jaw, her hand now holding onto Rachel’s waist. Briefly, she wondered if she could physically go for another round, but with the teasing smile on Rachel’s lips and the slight shake of her head it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.

“You need to get some sleep,” Rachel murmured, kissing her once more. Santana inhaled slowly, trying to soak in as much of her as possible, and then nodded, gently, breaking the kiss. “I don’t want you torturing your poor students in the morning.” How considerate.

“I torture them anyway,” Santana pointed out, shrugging her shoulder, her hand running down the curve of Rachel’s backside, making her squirm on the bed. She would find the energy to make this work.

“Not the point, _Professor Lopez_.” God, it should be illegal for Rachel to husk like that. And the little giggle she elicited after Santana’s moan was enough to know she was being played.

“You’re being cruel.” Santana really didn’t mean for it to come out like a whine but it was hard. Rachel only seemed amused by it.

“Am I?” she asked innocently, and Christ, Santana was a goner.

Rachel squealed in surprise as her girlfriend kissed her soundly, her hands turning her pliant body and moving her onto her back. It was then absolutely no surprise that Santana was whispering completely indecent things in her ear. She could shut it down and go to sleep, but who would want to when Santana was using her mouth like that?

Sleep was such a waste of time when they had the other in their arms; there was no denying it. And Rachel had tried, but Santana’s students were just going to have to get used to the fact she was sleep deprived more often as she was not giving up these nights together. No way.

*0*0*

When Saturday rolled around, and Santana didn’t have to get up at the ass crack of dawn, she was a little more human, rather than her normal demon self. Apparently she could channel the devil between the hours of six a.m. and nine a.m. if not properly dealt with. It’s amazing what one learns from their girlfriend.

Rolling her eyes at the memory of that particular conversation, Santana poured herself more wine and tried to pretend that it didn’t say eleven on the clock on the wall. It was five o’clock somewhere, she was sure of it. Plus, she was definitely going to have to be liquored up for the day ahead.

Quinn and Kurt were coming round, which was just going to be a disaster, and later on in the afternoon, a few of Rachel’s friends were to come over, too. Santana had seemingly met them before, but she had no idea. She was pretty certain she’s been drunk every time she’s met Rachel’s friends so how was she to remember who they were?

“Starting early, I see,” Rachel chimed, coming to wrap her arms round her waist. Leaning back into the embrace, Santana shrugged and turned her head to give her girlfriend a kiss.

“Can you blame me?” she muttered, earning a chuckle in return.

“They’re your friends, you’re not meant to dread their arrival.” Rachel still couldn’t work out why Santana had such distaste towards her friends but yet was so very protective of them. It was a peculiar mix.

Turning in her arms and leaving her wine glass on the counter, Santana wrapped her arms round Rachel’s neck and kissed her again, longing for the contact.

“How can I not? You’ve met them, you know what they’re like.” They were bumbling idiots as far as Santana was concerned.

“You love them really.” Maybe she could have agreed to that, but one of her hands had just snuck under Rachel’s top when there was knocking on the door and no, right now, she most certainly did not love them, really.

“I’ll get the door,” Rachel said brightly, detangling herself.

“We could just pretend we’re not in,” Santana reasoned, both hands now skimming across Rachel’s waist, making her bite her bottom lip in an attempt to hide her grin.

“Nope, not going to happen. You need to face your shame,” she sang, shaking her head as she pulled away and began walking towards the door. Santana followed, like she always did, her eyes never leaving her girlfriend’s figure.

“Face my sha- what?”

Rachel said no more, just pointed to the poster on the wall and Santana cringed. Fuck. She’d forgotten about that. She had only been preparing for talk of the bet, not of how she broke a fucking sink. Where was the tequila when she needed it?

Before she could prepare properly for that, the door was open and they were invading her place. Their place, rather. Rachel seemed to be giddy with their arrival, and good lord, why? But hell, it was pretty mesmerising to see her smiling like that and Santana couldn’t help but try and catch a breath. She was kinda, maybe, completely losing it over this girl, and she was feeling alright about that.

Rachel took their coats and gave Santana a kiss on the cheek as she passed by her to put them in one of the bedrooms, before going to make their drinks up. That left Santana time to say hi, and Kurt and Quinn enough time to notice a change in the living room.

“Oh, what sink did she break?” Kurt asked, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the change on the poster. His automatic assumption over Rachel breaking it and given that she was out the room had Santana thinking maybe she could wing this and pretend Rachel did indeed break a sink.

“Gosh, she must be costing you a fortune,” Quinn observed, frowning.

“Is your insurance still covering it?” Kurt then asked, looking to Santana for answers. She didn’t have any, and even if she did it wasn’t like she was going to get a word in edgeways. Quinn just ploughed right on.

“Was it your en suite sink? I loved that sink. Actually, who designed that bathroom? It’s very effective given the small amount of space.” What was she, an interior decorator now?

“Yeah, and you got it installed pretty cheap, right?”

“I guess it’s more expensive to get the sink replaced. But you did just buy a new one. Is that sink going to be used?”  The two of them looked at her in question and holy crap, what was wrong with them? Did they not understand the need to pause for someone to answer?

“Enough about the damn sink!” Santana finally barked, hearing Rachel’s approaching footsteps. Fuck. It was going to come out and she was going to be screwed.

“Ooh. Someone’s grouchy,” Kurt sang, looking a little like he was stepping on eggshells.

“And here we thought she’d be in a good mood what with all the sex,” Quinn replied, nudging him in the side with her elbow.

“Maybe it’s not good,” he whispered back, except it was loud enough for the deaf bitch three floors down to hear.

“Shut up!” Another bark, and this time Santana sought refuge in the kitchen, trying to hide. No shame, none whatsoever. She wasn’t going to come clean.  

“I think we hit a nerve,” Kurt said, shrugging his shoulders. He was still completely confused as to why Santana was so pissed off, but then again, it was eleven a.m. so she must have been drinking for hours. It was always five o’clock somewhere. Speaking of, where was his drink?

“What’s up?” Rachel asked, coming to a halt next to the two of them, and seeing the scowl on her girlfriend’s face in the kitchen.

“We pissed her off,” Quinn answered, frowning at why that had gone tits up. They hadn’t been rude, they hadn’t been sarcastic, and in actual fact, they had been rather pleasant. That made enough sense as it was considering Santana hated pleasant.

“How?” Maybe Rachel could fix this little problem and have it all diffused by the afternoon.

“We were only asking about the sink-“ Kurt began, with Quinn ready to jump in and finish off his sentence.

“And she got really grouchy.”

“Ah,” Rachel murmured, biting her bottom lip and shooting Santana another look. Her girlfriend was embarrassed and if it hadn’t put her into a tantrum mode then it actually would have been rather cute.

“Ah?”

“Ah?”

“What does ‘ah’ mean?”  Kurt and Quinn enquired, smelling blood in the water.  

“Nothing,” Rachel replied, fobbing them off with a show smile as she darted into the kitchen.

“Lies!” Kurt hissed after her, but he kept his distance and opted not to follow her. Heading in there now would be like going into the belly of the beast.

Quinn agreed with Kurt’s assessment to wait in the living room, and they spied from the kitchen door the two women talking. Santana was pouting as Rachel was trying to sooth whatever the hell had gone wrong. They were going to find out soon enough, and in preparation, Kurt and Quinn made themselves comfortable on the couch.

It didn’t take long before Santana was walking into the room, glaring at the floor, arms crossed over her chest, with Rachel at her side. She was looking much happier, a bright smile adorning her lips as she looked at them. She cleared her throat, which didn’t do anything, and then ended up nudging her girlfriend to get on with it. Santana made some whining noise at the back of her throat before rolling her eyes and finally opening her mouth.

“I broke the sink, it was me, not Rachel,” she announced, somewhat mumbled, with a hint of venom tacked in there.

“What?”

“What?!”

“I just told you- I broke the fucking sink-“ Rachel’s hand on Santana’s arm and a raised eyebrow had her stopping short. “I broke the sink,” she said calmly, looking down at the floor, waiting for the inevitable ridicule.

Quinn and Kurt sat completely speechless, and just as they were about to take the piss out of Santana, they noticed Rachel’s expression. It was clear to both of them, without either one having to say as much, that they needed to tread carefully. The smile was gone.

“Oh…well, that’s new,” Kurt said, frowning in confusion. Anything, really, to get Rachel’s warning look off her face.

“Yeah…that’s different,” Quinn added. When Rachel was out of the equation, they’d make sure Santana experienced the proper ridicule that she deserved, but neither of them were going to mess with a half-crazy diva. It just wasn’t worth it.

“Yes, it is new and different, but we have a spare sink so it’s not a problem,” Rachel finished, patting Santana’s arm again. “I’ll just go fetch your drinks.” She gave them another bright, albeit slightly scary, smile and then departed the room.

Santana wasted no time in flouncing onto the nearest empty couch. Kurt and Quinn were momentarily relieved she hadn’t joined them on their couch and decided to spread themselves out over the rest of it in an attempt to stop Rachel joining them. It just felt safer that way.

“God, did she remove your spine when you slept with her or what?” Kurt muttered, earning a fierce glare in return. Maybe he shouldn’t have opened his mouth.

Quinn snorted in agreement, wholeheartedly agreeing with Kurt’s assessment of the situation, despite Santana’s glare. She could look at her like that all she wanted, it wasn’t changing the fact that she broke a freaking sink and was now hopelessly whipped by the girl in the other room.

“Not a word,” Santana growled. “I don’t want to hear a word from either of you, not today.”

“We can keep quiet _today_ , but just you wait,” Kurt laughed, grinning to himself. He was ready to mock her mercilessly for this.

Well, he could laugh it up because he was going to get what was coming to him. Kurt was a fool if he thought Santana wasn’t going to be prepared to tackle this shit head on. She had to play fair today as Rachel’s friends would be there later, but any other time, she was going to give as good as she got. Plus, she still had an ace up her sleeve that Kurt didn’t know about, and that was going to earn her quite a bit of money.

“Here we go!” Rachel cried, smiling round the room as she carried in the drinks. All three of them wasted no time at all taking hefty gulps, while Rachel just rolled her eyes. She was the only one who had to stay sober, as she was performing later on that evening.

With liquor running round their bloodstreams, Santana found Quinn and Kurt much more manageable. She was quite happy to sit and listen to Kurt whine about this guy he kept meeting on the subway, and she was even willing to sit through Quinn moaning about her boss.

Rachel’s stories were much more amusing, and okay, maybe Santana was biased but she did enjoy hearing about all the mishaps on stage and some of the erratic nights performing, which her girlfriend was very willing to share. They typically didn’t go into much detail about their days in the need to get to bed quicker during the week, so this was nice, having a catch up, even if Quinn and Kurt were there, too.

But then Santana remembered why it was good to have them, or rather just Kurt, there. He wanted a refill of his drink and it took one raised eyebrow from Rachel to have the two of them getting up off the couch.

Opting to do this now, Rachel and Santana followed Kurt into the kitchen, leaving Quinn yammering on about God only knows what in the living room. They had him alone, and now was the time to strike.

“We want some of your winnings,” Rachel declared, placing her hands on one side of the counter, with Santana doing the same on the other. They had him physically cornered now, tucked in against the worktop with nowhere to go.

“What? No!” he cried, one hand on his chest in shock and looking at them in fright. Quinn could still be heard talking obliviously behind them, so hadn’t noticed something was up just yet.

“No, that’s not how it works. You say yes, and give us half, and we let you carry on your life threat free,” Santana sang, giving him an attempt at an innocent smile. It looked nothing but sinister.

“What is wrong with you two?” he asked, shaking his head.

“Nothing, we’re perfect; perfectly ingenious. Half of your winnings please, Kurt. Don’t make us bring out the big guns,” Rachel chimed, and at least her smile looked good.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I’ll be one click away from sending your porno to Sebastian.”

“You wouldn’t!” Was that always going to come back and bite him in the ass?

“Try me,” Santana warned, raising her eyebrow in challenge.

“I thought we agreed-“

“Half of your winnings, please, Kurt,” Rachel chimed, cutting him off and smiling innocently.

He glanced between the two of them, tried to calculate his odds of getting out of this unscathed but no. They were not in his favour. Santana was ruthless, Rachel was crazy, and that combination was lethal. He was stuck.

“I don’t have that kind of money on me,” he tried, but Santana’s dark chuckle told him she wasn’t buying it.

“Kurt, you’re a walking atm. You always have been; so hand your wallet over and you’ll make it out of this kitchen alive.” Death threats, really, Santana?

“I hate you,” Kurt declared, knowing it was better to hand over the wallet rather than have Santana cut off his pocket, before turning to Rachel. “And you, you have betrayed me!”

“Enough with the dramatics, give me!” Santana barked, holding her hand out for the wallet. Instead, Kurt handed it to Rachel, who accepting the wallet with a grin.

“I’ve just been hustled,” he complained, crossing his arms over his chest as Rachel counted out the money. If he’d handed to Santana, he wouldn’t have received a penny of it back. She would rob him blind and not think twice about it. But then again, he never thought Rachel would stoop this low.

One of his idols had just blackmailed him for cash. What was the world coming to?

Handing back his share, Rachel divided up what was left and handed half of it to Santana, who grinned happily. They were perfect, utterly perfect. She had just pulled a hustle off with her girl, and that made this relationship gold star worthy. Santana was convinced she’d found her soul mate, and Rachel couldn’t agree more.

“Thanks for doing business,” Santana said smugly, grabbing her glass and heading out the room. She left Kurt and Rachel bickering and went to tuck her money away in her room.

When she returned to the living room, Quinn was the one to bring up the bet, and Santana sat amused. Her friend hadn’t clocked on what had taken place in the kitchen and was sitting none the wiser.

“I can’t believe he won,” Quinn uttered distastefully, eyeing up Kurt in annoyance. He was oblivious, too busy gossiping with Rachel over God knows what. At least they were past arguing, she noted.

“I can’t believe you thought you would win,” Santana murmured, shaking her head. Really, she had to be off her head to think she stood a chance.

“I can’t believe Rachel was taking part,” Quinn then moaned, dropping her eyes to her wine glass. It was looking a little empty. Never mind that it had just been filled.

“I can’t believe she didn’t win.” Seriously, she was one of the two having sex, how could she not fix that to win? What was her girl thinking? It may have worked out for them, but they could have actually won if they’d done this right.

“I can’t believe you blackmailed me for half of the money,” Kurt then whined, sitting himself on the end of the couch, pouting still. His entry into the conversation was not conducive at all, because Quinn began screeching and Santana wanted to throw herself out a window.

“What? You can’t do that!” Quinn cried, looking at them aghast.

“We can do what we need to,” Rachel sang, coming to sit next to Santana, draping her legs over her lap. They smiled happily at each other, and Santana ran her hands up Rachel’s calves and to her knees. God, her skin was ridiculously soft. She just couldn’t stop touching her.

“That’s not fair!”

“Welcome to the real world, Quinn, where life is unfair,” Santana added, toasting her with her glass.

“Plus, the two of you would have had nothing to bet on if it hadn’t been for us,” Rachel pointed out, shrugging her shoulders. Good point, good point indeed.

“That’s not true! We would have found something else,” Quinn tried to argue, but it was futile.

“Well, you should have done that in the first place and you wouldn’t be in this predicament,” Santana answered, taking a sip of her drink.

“Nicely said,” Rachel complimented, patting Santana’s arm.

“Thank you,” she replied, grinning.

“You two make me sick,” Kurt threw out, turning up his nose in disgust.

“Agreed,” Quinn murmured, practically downing her drink at the sight of them.

If this was what it was going to be like from now on, then Quinn and Kurt were going to need Santana to stock up her bar. Even then, however, it didn’t feel like there would be enough alcohol in the world to numb out the lovey-dovey looks of Rachel and Santana. While they were happy for them, they could really do without the dastardly team they’d become.

Baking, breaking sinks and now blackmail, what the hell was next?

*0*0*


	12. The Roommate’s Déjà vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, and a bit shorter than usual, but it says it all.

*0*0*

Slowly but surely, Santana and Rachel’s relationship began growing stronger and stronger. It was so  easy for them to just be together, no arguments, no fuss, and despite the complete ridiculousness of the both of them, they still found themselves having a great time together.

Yes, they still bickered like mad, but at the end of the night, Rachel would cuddle up in Santana’s bed, where she was now sleeping, and Santana would kiss her temple and nuzzle into her. They’d found where they were meant to be, with each other, and had no intention of that changing any time soon.

Of course, that didn’t mean there weren’t moments that had them doubting the sanity of the other, or questioning their own, as they found out.  In what had been a day of Rachel staying in the apartment, and Santana out and about shopping with Kurt, neither had expected the actions of the other.

The keys rattled in the lock as Santana unlocked the door and headed inside, ahead of Kurt. It took her one glance into the living room before she suddenly screeched, her hand shooting to her chest, and her eyes wide. Kurt screamed in a gut reaction, looking round to see what he was screaming at, and couldn’t see anything.

“What? What is it?!” Rachel cried, having been woken from a nap, charging out the bedroom, a baseball bat in hand. It had sounded like someone was being murdered.

Santana stood still, taking deep breaths, fanning herself with one hand and unable to take her eyes off god only knows what. Kurt looked at Rachel, seeing her confusion and finally stopped screaming his lungs out, only to hear Santana still whimpering and whining.

“What was that for? What’s wrong with you?” he moaned, hitting her on the arm. She had scared him half to death, and as far as he could see, for no reason whatsoever. She could have injured his voice from the note he hit there. Injured his voice, damaged his vocal chords, deafened all animals in a three block radius.

“Santana?” Rachel asked gently, placing the bat down and putting it on the couch. She approached slowly, cautiously, and Kurt judged the distance between him and Santana. He was standing far too close. She’d clearly lost her mind, and now she was a risk to everyone.

Taking a step back, he shot Rachel a look when she reached out, warning her not to touch the loony between them, but she did not listen. Fine, totally not his fault when Santana attacked her in a fit of rage. Gauging the distance between him and the door and him and the bat, Kurt knew it was safer to flee down the stairs if this went south.

“Santana?” Rachel repeated, placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder and the other on her cheek. Turning her head, she managed to break whatever eye contact Santana had, and finally got her to look at her. “What’s going on?”

“I’m seeing things,” she whimpered, taking hold of Rachel’s hand and squeezing it tight. Santana felt like she had lost her mind, had truly gone and kissed goodbye to her sanity, and it was alarming with how everyone else seemed so at ease with this.

“What do you mean you’re seeing things, sweetie?” Rachel asked, slowly, carefully, wondering if her girlfriend had lost the plot.

Santana didn’t reply, she just raised her other hand and pointed across the room, towards the table next to the couch. Rachel and Kurt both followed her finger, and then Kurt really did know what he was screaming at.

“Oh my God, it’s back! How did it get back?!” He flung himself behind Santana’s body for protection. Objects reincarnating themselves from landfills and coming back to haunt and taunt him were definitely not to be trifled with, hence the body shield.

“That’s my gaudy lamp,” Santana whispered, squeezing Rachel’s hand again.

Rachel’s once concerned face suddenly broke into a grin, and she shook her head, letting go of Santana’s hand to wrap the girl in a hug. Santana didn’t quite know why her girlfriend was laughing and hugging her at this moment in time, but she accepted it anyway.

“It’s not your lamp, because I destroyed that one pretty good, but it is identical to it, I believe,” Rachel said proudly, feeling rather pleased with herself.

“What?” Santana asked, looking at her, confused.

“I bought it for you…as a gift.” Now Rachel wasn’t feeling so confident about her decision for this surprise.

“You did?”

“Rachel, why?” Kurt moaned, pain all over his features. “This place was finally starting to look good.” He foolishly thought Rachel was bringing some class and taste to the place, but obviously he had been misled. She had turned against him; such a cruel betrayal. It felt like when they hustled him for his bet money all over again. When would he learn?

“You bought me a gaudy lamp?” Santana asked, still finding this hard to believe. She was sure she had lost that lamp for good, was convinced Rachel destroyed it on purpose, and yet there was another one just like it now sitting in their apartment.

“Yeah. I know you think I’ve taken over your apartment, changing everything-“ Rachel began, only to be interrupted.

“Making it better, more like,” Kurt muttered. Rolling her eyes, she continued on.

“-so I thought this would be a good way to help even things out a bit. Do you not like it?” She honestly thought she had done a good thing, a nice deed, but Santana’s expression wasn’t giving anything away as to whether this was a smart idea.

“No! No, I love it. It’s my lamp!” Santana finally murmured, squeezing Rachel’s hand and tugging her closer. It was her gaudy lamp, and even though Rachel hated it, she had bought it for her.

“I think I’m going to hurl,” Kurt groaned, slipping past them and heading into the kitchen, dumping his bags when he did so.

“You sure you like it?” Rachel asked again, worried.

“Yes, I do, honestly.” Wrapping her arms around her girlfriend, Santana kissed her soundly on the lips, and then nuzzled into her neck. “I can’t believe you did this for me. How did you even…how?”

“I saw it in an antique shop and thought of you.” Rachel’s smile was shy and unassuming, and Santana felt her heart sore at her words. This girl, she was something else entirely.

Santana wanted to say so much to Rachel, now fully understanding the feelings burning up inside her. She might have been happy to dance around it for a few months, and put every other name to it, but she was completely in love, and it was moments like this where she just felt like confessing all.

“Can I open this bottle of wine? I need a drink after all that stress!” Kurt called through, breaking the silent moment between the couple, and Rachel stepped back, heading into the kitchen to answer him. She was not one for yelling in their household.

Shooting another look at the lamp, Santana let out a contented sigh and smiled to herself.

She’d need to tell Rachel soon, but God, she had no clue when.

*0*0*

All thoughts of coming clean, of fessing up, of finally admitting that she was in love went out the window. Santana could safely admit she was a coward, and telling Rachel how she felt did scare the hell out of her, so she wasn’t going to say a word. She just wanted to get on with how things were, and maybe, _maybe_ , in five or so years she’d finally say something. Maybe.

Until then, it was regular programming as usual.

Arriving home that night, Santana kicked off her shoes, threw her jacket off and wandered through the apartment. It was relatively silent, and she suspected Rachel was either sleeping in the bedroom, or out entirely. Knowing she’d find out soon enough, Santana opted to head for the kitchen first, in need of a drink and something to munch on until dinner.

It was there that she found a tin on the counter, with a note taped to the top. It was all very déjà vu, and looking at the kitchen sink, Santana was relieved to see it was in one piece. So, she hadn’t broken that one.

Picking up the note to face the news head on, Santana took a deep breath and read the words:

_Have a cookie, and then come and join me in the bedroom. x_

Okay, so she wasn’t expecting that, and the frown on her brow said as much. Whatever, she should have been used to Rachel’s weird behaviour by now. This was probably some roleplaying game Santana had forgotten about, which made her cock her eyebrow in thought to see if she was meant to be dressed up for the occasion.

Fuck it, they could role-play later, she was hungry now, and she at least knew Rachel was home.

Grabbing the tin, Santana wandered towards the bedroom with it in hand and tried to work off the lid. It wasn’t that easy, but she managed just as she reached the bedroom door. Looking inside, she read the words on the cookies and froze, her free hand stopping just before it touched the handle.

_I’m in love with you –_ was written on half a dozen cookies by the looks of it, and the other half had little red hearts surrounding what looked like a broken sink.

This had to be some elaborate joke. No way. Rachel couldn’t. Well, no, she could, _she did_ , apparently, but what? How had this happened? Was this even real? Pinching herself, Santana scowled at the pain and then took a deep breath to process what was in front of her.

Rachel loved her. Rachel was in love with her. Holy hell. Santana didn’t know how or when or why, but she was not going to question it. If Rachel was professing her love for her - which, on a cookie, really, Rachel? – then Santana was going to bask in such a declaration, and not over analyse it.

To actually know the feelings were mutual, to know that Rachel loved her, God, that was empowering. Smiling to herself, feeling the adrenaline running through her system, her heart erratic in excitement, and her body humming with happiness, Santana opened the bedroom door to see her girlfriend.

Rachel was looking every bit as nervous as Santana imagined her to be, and she tried to give her a friendly smile, a loving smile, to show that she wasn’t going to run from this. Rachel probably opted for this method in case it was too soon, in case Santana wanted an exit strategy, and while that was sweet of her, Santana didn’t want either of those. She just wanted Rachel.

“Broken sinks, huh?” she teased, picking up one of the cookies and taking a bite. God, they were still as fucking magical as ever.

“I thought they were fitting. If it wasn’t for your sinks…” she joked in return, biting her bottom lip, and Santana couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re insane,” she murmured, stepping through further into the bedroom, depositing the tin on the unit as she went. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“No?” Rachel asked, sliding off the bed to stand before Santana, still looking unsure. It was actually rather painful to see her so uncertain, and Santana wanted to do everything she could to clear it all up.

“Nope, I love you exactly the way you are,” she finished, reaching out, taking Rachel’s hands in hers, and pulling her body closer.

“You do?” It felt foolish of her to check, but Rachel needed the clarification. Santana just smiled easily and nodded, as if to say ‘of course’.

“I love you, so much,” Rachel whispered fervently, kissing her again, once, twice, and then burrowing into Santana’s embrace.

“I love you, too,” she murmured into Rachel’s neck, planting a kiss on her skin as she did so, loving the sound of those words falling from the other’s lips. “And thank you for not breaking another sink, I honestly thought that’s what the note was going to say.” Rachel laughed awkwardly, and Santana pulled her head back from the embrace. “You didn’t,” she groaned, already thinking of the insurance.

“No, I didn’t!” Rachel replied, shaking her head, but she still looked guilty as sin. And she was meant to be an actress.

“What did you break?” Santana moaned, attempting to keep the scowl off her face. She really should have been used to this, to Rachel, by now.

“Tha-ath,” Rachel muttered, turning her head away and looking up at the ceiling, her words a complete mystery.

“The what?” Santana did not like the list of possibilities she had come up with that rhymed with the noises Rachel had just made.

“The bath, but look it wasn’t my fault! And honestly, I think we need to talk to whoever fitted your bathroom because this shouldn’t have happened! Don’t look at me like that, this isn’t my fault, honestly!” Rachel continued to yammer on, while Santana stared at her in disbelief.

She’d started destroying baths now, like those were cheap.

Fucking hell, thank God she loved this girl. Even if Rachel went on to destroy the whole apartment, minus Gaudy Lamp 2.0 because no, Santana would still adore her. There was something endearing in her madness, and whether Santana had just finally gone crazy herself, she didn’t know, but she really didn’t care to find out.

Life with Rachel, although unpredictable and drama filled, was actually just what she wanted.

*0*0*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that’s it, done and dusted. Thank you all for taking the time to read this story, for those of you who stuck through it from chapter one, and those of you who only recently found it. I really do appreciate all your support, and I hope you’ve enjoy this as much as I have.   
> If any of you are interested in seeing a snippet of this duo’s future, check out the one-shot follow-up titled Broken Lamps & Baby Steps. Cheers!


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